All the Feels: Understanding Somatic Poetry
Creating and maintaining a regular writing practice can be challenging. We all have lots of things pulling at our time and energy, and switching gears from day jobs and responsibilities to writing time can be difficult and leave a poet feeling zapped of energy, like a body simply going through the motions.
Establishing creative rituals can help. Rituals can lend structure to writing practice. When these structures open a space for the poet to center themself as a material body within their writing practice, that poet is creating somatic poetry.
Somatic poetry is an intentional and ritual-based journey into one’s inner realms of feeling and sensation that can help a person consciously be in and navigate the present. When that person is a poet, these rituals can open important moments of reflection on how the poet is using their voice, ways they’re engaging in craft, and whether they’re practicing the poetics they want to be practicing.
Keep reading to learn more about somatic poetry, discover helpful resources, and find a list of writing exercises to try so you can explore how somatic poetry can serve you and your writing practice.
What is Somatic Poetry
In “Introduction to Somatic Poetry Rituals,” which opens their collection Ecodeviance: (Soma)tics for the Future Wilderness (Wave Books 2014), poet CAConrad reflects on the power of ritual to help people be and stay present. They describe how it felt to leave the small town where their entire family worked in a coffin factory. CAConrad describes the sudden realization that their poetry practice had been warped by that same factory model, that their poems were recreating and perpetuating the capitalistic and dehumanizing systems and structures they had escaped, or so they thought.
What’s a poet to do? CAConrad’s solution was to connect with their body. They created a series of unexpected ritualistic structures that required them to disrupt their regular daily and writing routines and focus instead on embodied experiences within their immediate surroundings. And somatic poetry as a movement was born.
CAConrad may not be the first poet to theorize, codify, and practice this approach, but they’re the poet who put the practice of somatic poetry into wide circulation.
Somatic poetry is a form of writing that focuses on the connection between the poet’s mind and body. It can help writers feel more in tune with their bodies, bodily experiences, and inner experiences by focusing on the physical sensations associated with them.
The practice of somatic poetry centers on performing ritualized physical activities and exercises as creative techniques that combine writing with movement to tap into the wisdom of the body and support self-awareness, healing, and personal growth. It can be a powerful tool for exploring emotions, memories, and sensations, as well as processing trauma, reducing stress, and improving overall mental wellbeing.
Your writing doesn’t need to be perfect or even coherent. The focus is more on the journey than the end product.
It’s important to approach somatic writing exercises with self-compassion. These exercises are meant to be exploratory and can bring up different emotions and sensations, some of which might surprise you. Take breaks or stop the exercise if you feel overwhelmed, and take time to do what you need to return to a regulated state.
We can understand somatic poetics as having three related and sequential steps:
We can understand somatic poetics as having three related and sequential steps:
Create a ritual
Take notes on your bodily experiences and sensations during that ritual
Shape those notes into a poem
In this way, writing isn’t focused on producing a poem; rather, the poem becomes the structure to house your ritual. You get to be the focus.
The steps are basic, and you should infuse details and structure into each step to suit your own creative style. Below I share some ways that I structure each step. Take what seems helpful and leave the rest behind or change to best suit you.
Step One: Create Your Ritual
Begin by considering somatic poetry rituals as a different kind of investment in your everyday life.
Tired of your job? Consider building a ritual inside of your job that opens space for you to be you in your body and on your terms. This might look like writing for 5 minutes before you begin your workday, 5 minutes during the middle of your workday on the bench outside or hidden away in the bathroom, and another 5 minutes before you end your workday or begin your commute.
Keep your ritual as simple as possible at the start. The simpler the first ritual, the more likely you are to keep it going.
When you write, consider reflecting on your daily movements, the ones we can take for granted. For example, as you wait for the coffee to brew, listen to the sounds of the percolator, inhale deeply, place your hand near the carafe to feel the growing heat, time how long it takes for one drip to give way to another drip. Where do these experiences register in your body? How do they engage your senses? Now you’re ready for your 5-minute write.
If you can get yourself to create during a shitty workday, that ability can free you to create anywhere, anytime. It can help you to believe in your creativity and your ability to find the strength in it. And inside these ritualistic spaces, new ideas and sensations will reveal themselves, offering you more writing material as writing becomes a part of your everyday life.
There’s a list of ritualistic exercises to try out at the end of this article to encourage you to find the rituals that work best for you, although they’ll likely change over time, as do we all.
Step Two: Take Notes
At my job, I’m the creative who works with scientists and engineers. My favorite part of my job is the free field-specific notebooks I get to take. They have lined or grid pages, and sometimes those pages are yellow or lime-colored with wide annotation columns all very well laid out.
I write wildly across these pages, disrupting the lines and grids, sideways and upside down as though my actual job is to break down order with utter chaos and free myself from all structures that try to corral my energy. Because I do think that’s my actual job, at least in this lifetime.
I find it very satisfying, and something about disrespecting the page layout makes me feel wholly present and bookishly badass.
After you engage in your writing ritual from step one, write. Write like a wild beast as you reflect on your bodily experiences and sensations. Write with fury. Punch your inner critic in the dick. Punch twice if you’re sexy.
Your internal editor is valuable when you need to shape or revise a poem, but when they show up, ignore them. Better yet, outwrite them by moving to your next thought so quickly they don’t have time to offer critique. Then write faster.
Arrive at that moment where all rebuke over your words and their customs fall away. This is the space where you can lounge into the unimagined writing world previously kept concealed from yourself.
If you find yourself getting caught in your head while trying to outwrite your inner editor, see if one of these tools helps you:
Smell something deeply. Inhale coffee beans or grounds or something similarly pungent. This tool recalibrates your olfactory sense and can jolt you out of a mind loop.
If engaging with smells doesn’t work, stare straight ahead at an immobile object, then flick the tip of your nose with your finger. Do it just hard enough that it disrupts your visual pattern. This tool can help to release your focus enough to return to writing. (It also makes me giggle, which I enjoy.)
For those particularly pernicious mind loops, try moving your position (if you’re sitting, stand; if you’re upright, recline) and begin to thrash-dance to your level of comfort and mobility. Throw arms in the air, kick legs. Wiggle about wildly. This tool always works. Laugh, return to your writing, and repeat as necessary.
Step Three: Shape the Poem
Lastly, shape your poem. Practitioners often recommend completing this step in one sitting, so make sure to attend to your bodily needs and carve out dedicated, uninterrupted time, as much as possible, before you begin this step.
Take a moment to review your notes, then open a new, fresh document, if you write digitally, or turn to a fresh page in your notebook. Set a timer for 5 minutes, then begin writing.
Let your notes from step two form the basis for your poem. As in step two, write with wild abandon and at as fast of a pace as makes you comfortable.
After 5 minutes, return to your notes from step two. Take a minute or two to review them, reflecting on what you wrote about and what you left behind.
Now, do a little wiggle dance to move your body, then return to your poem and write for another 5 minutes. Repeat this in 5-minute intervals one or two more times or until your body tells you this draft poem is complete for now.
These 5-minute intervals will expand the notes for the poem into something resembling a draft. The first interval can unleash whatever language you have stored inside you at the moment. The second and especially the third intervals (and beyond) turn into a dialectic, where you move between your draft poem and notes on your bodily experiences, keeping you present in the moment and in your work.
Being present in your work in this way can enrich and compound your ideas and language in unexpected ways, opening new directions for new material.
Now, make two copies of the document. Keep one with you and hide the other copy for two weeks to a month. When you have time, awaken your internal editor to help you shape your draft, and mark up the copy you keep with you. This tends to be the point when things begin to come together.
After two weeks to a month, return to your hidden copy and read it backwards: the last word typed is the first word read and the first word typed is the last word read. Reading the document backwards often uncovers entirely new ways into the poem we would not have seen otherwise.
You’re ready to take this draft poem into its final stage: revise as needed and let it live in the world.
Free Resources
Here are some great free resources to explore if you want to learn more about somatic poetry and get ideas for rituals and exercises. Each resource also contains lists for further reading:
Exercises to Try
Want to try out different exercises? Here are a few exercises to explore.
Start with a full body scan
Find a quiet and comfortable space to sit or lie down. Close your eyes and take a few deep breaths to center yourself. Begin to slowly scan your body from head to toe. Focus on each part of your body, paying attention to any sensations, tensions, or emotions that arise.
As you do this, write down any physical sensations, images, or memories that come up. Don’t analyze them, just let them pass you by. Allow your body to guide your writing, letting go of any judgments or expectations.
Explore your senses
Pick an object, such as a book, a candle, or a piece of fruit, and hold it in your hand. Close your eyes and engage all your senses to fully experience the object. Consider the texture, smell, taste, color, and any other details.
Then, open your eyes and start writing about your sensory experience with the object. Let your words flow freely, describing the object and your sensations in detail. Don’t worry about your writing being perfect. Just write.
Unpack your emotions
Choose an emotion that you are currently experiencing, whether it’s joy, sadness, anger, or fear. Sit comfortably and close your eyes. Allow yourself to fully experience the emotion in your body. Allow yourself to feel any physical sensations, tensions, or movements.
Start writing about the emotion, describing how it feels in your body and any memories or thoughts associated with it. Use descriptive language and explore the nuances of the emotion through your writing.
Experiment with free writing
Choose a word or a phrase that is meaningful to you. (Struggling to find inspiration? Take a look at The Poetry Lab Instagram account for quotes and writing prompts.)
Start writing continuously without stopping or censoring, allowing your thoughts to flow freely onto the page. Don’t worry about grammar, punctuation, or coherence. Let your writing be a stream of consciousness, capturing your thoughts, memories, and emotions as they arise.
Let your imagination guide you
Close your eyes and imagine yourself in a peaceful and calming place, such as a beach, a forest, or a meadow. Maybe you imagine something more everyday. Picture yourself at home with a cup of hot tea in hand or cuddling your furry companion. Engage all your senses to fully immerse yourself in this environment.
Then, start writing about your experience, describing the sights, sounds, smells, tastes, and sensations you encounter. Let your imagination guide your writing and allow yourself to fully engage with the world around you.
Advanced Rituals
Are you ready to try some advanced rituals? Here are a few that CAConrad developed, in CAConrad’s words, and they’re as dazzling and inventive as a CAConrad poem.
Lucky Penny Poverty
Wash a penny, rinse it, slip it under your tongue and walk out the door. Copper is the metal of
Aphrodite, never ever forget this, never, don't forget it, ever.
Drink a little orange juice outside and let some of the juice rest in your mouth with the penny. Oranges are the fruit of Aphrodite, and she is the goddess of Love, but not fidelity.
Go somewhere outside, go, get going with your penny and juice. Where do you want to sit? Find it, and sit there. What is the best Love you've ever had in this world? Be quiet while thinking about that Love. If someone comes along and starts talking, quietly shoo them away, you're busy, you're a poet with a penny in your mouth, idle chit chat is not your friend. Be quiet so quiet, let the very sounds of that Love be heard in your bones.
After a little while take the penny out of your mouth and place it on the top of your head. Balance it there and sit still a little while, for you are now moving your own forces quietly about in your stillness.
Now get your pen and paper and write about POVERTY, write line after line about starvation and deprivation from the voice of one who has been Loved in this world.
Death Meal
Okay, so you find out you're going to die, or be killed later today. What meal would you like?
What meal is your favorite? Make that meal for yourself.
Sit and write a few lines from the smell and the sight of it. Put your ear to the plate and move it around with your fingers or fork, or chopsticks. Listen, smell, look, and eat it, slowly, very, very, slowly, eat it. It's your favorite meal, it's your last meal, enjoy every single flavor.
Promise me you're slowly eating? Good.
As soon as the last bite is gone, move quickly into the bathroom. Blast the cold shower while you strip naked. As soon as your clothes are off then shut the water off. Light a candle, shut off all lights, then sit on the floor of the cold, wet shower with your candle and write your poem, addressing some of what you wrote earlier about your final meal.
If someone should catch you and call you a weirdo yell back, "YES I AM NOW LEAVE ME ALONE I'M BUSY!" You are busy, and you are a weirdo, and it's a marvelous thing, now go back to your writing. Forget about them, it's not your fault you're more interesting than they are.
Anoint Yourself
Visit the home of a deceased poet you admire and bring some natural thing back with you. I went to Emily Dickinson's house the day after a reading event with my friend Susie Timmons. I scraped dirt from the foot of huge trees in the backyard into a little pot.
We then drove into the woods where we found miniature pears, apples and cherries to eat. I meditated in the arms of an oak tree with the pot of Emily's dirt, waking to the flutter of a red cardinal on a branch a foot or so from my face, staring, showing me his little tongue.
When I returned to Philadelphia I didn't shower for three days, then rubbed Emily's dirt all over my body, kneaded her rich Massachusetts soil deeply into my flesh, then put on my clothes and went out into the world.
Every once in a while I stuck my nose inside the neck of my shirt to inhale her delicious, sweet
earth covering me. I felt revirginized through the ceremony of my senses, I could feel her power tell me these are the ways to walk and speak and shift each glance into total concentration for
maximum usage of our little allotment of time on a planet.
LOSE AND WASTE NO MORE TIME POET! Lose and waste no more time she said to me as I took note after note on the world around me for the poem.
This article was published on January 9, 2024. Written by:
