Connecting content (or making the poem "flow" as my students like to say) is crucial to the craft of writing poetry. Whether we decide to present our work as a narrative, a lyric, or a pastoral, we must decide how we are going to transition from one idea or image to the next, and in what order.

Don't confuse how well a poem "flows," however, with the idea that all transitions in the poem are smooth. Indeed, much of what we love about a poem has to do with its internal tensions—those elements of images, form, and content that tug apart, and butt up against one another causing us to feel a slight sense of anxiety—from which we seek release. Depending on the effect the poet is trying to achieve, that release may or may not come, but the tension is always present.

Below, I'll discuss ten ways to make connections within a poem. After reading this section, go to Exercises, and work through the prompts for Exercise #2.

When we write poems, we move in the world of images—mind pictures and thoughts that we fill in with colors, sounds, smells, tastes, and textures. In many ways, we're telling a story in images, almost like a silent film. But in a poem, there is always more than one narrative: the narrative of words, the narrative of images, and the narrative of sound. So, when we look at using images as story, we want to think about the ways we can both connect (or reinforce), and interrupt (or disturb) the two other narratives taking place in the poem. Here's an example:

In this poem, by Lola Haskins, we get both abstract and concrete images juxtaposed in such a way as to create internal tension. The words I've highlighted emphasize the interplay between light and dark, heavy and delicate.

Starting in the 2nd line, we have a "cure" that's "poison." Then, in the 4th line, we read that the cow will soon be "less thin", making the reader wonder: "But if she's sick, what is less thin? Death?

In the next two lines, Haskins give us a concrete image of the flies (black buzz) on the cow (upheaving bone). But "upheaving" carries a double meaning in the poem: heaving air in and out of lungs, and heaving up, becoming sick at such a sight. As we move into line 8, the word "breathe" connects us back to "upheaving" (both in its internal rhyme, and in its shared meaning, to heave for breath), but then we are brought up short again, shocked in the "sharp dust" that pushes "deeper": into lungs? the narrator's consciousness? our own consciousness?

Now we come to what we call the turn in the poem (the point at which the poem turns and makes a new move into an unexpected area, somewhat akin to a revelation or epiphany). The narrator juxtaposes the "love" of her husband with her own suffering for the cow, the sorrow which feels like a "hundred tiny cuts in/my throat." And here, we begin to understand the narrator's empathetic emotional response to the suffering cow—for she knows how it "feels" when the "flies lift". Again, the word "feel" here is both internal and external, both abstract, and concrete, and is juxtaposed with the final word, "lift", leaving us a little uneasy, since the ending does not lift us, but jars us, not uplifting in any normal sense of the word.

Haskins does a great job here of using imagery as a means of creating tension in the narrative by looking for ways to juxtapose the concrete and the abstract using all five of the senses. Practice this in your own writing. Look for images that evoke your feelings, then look for opposite images that you can juxtapose with your original image to create that wonderful tension that readers love so much.

A segue is a transition from one idea, time frame, image or thought, to another. Inventing ways to move naturally, gracefully, and at times with a sense of unpredictable inevitability from one element of narrative to another is one of the most challenging aspects of writing poetry.

A poet needs to develop a keen sense of the characteristic similarities between objects, people, places, ideas, and things. In the poem below, notice how the subject change is made easily because the characteristics between the two subjects are so similar.

Another segue we often use is changing from the figurative to literal, and then back to figurative, or visa versa. Notice how well Julie Suk moves from the literal into the figurative, and then back to the literal again in the poem that follows.

The wipe-out is a technique that poets use to make space (called white space) between stanzas or sections of a poem. In the wipe-out, the poet uses each stanza as a time and/or place unit that breaks away from what has just been described or thought.

Notice Charles Simic uses this technique to transition and connect one idea to the next in his poem, "The Chair".

The chair, used as the primary image in the first line, become the device that links Euclid, the schoolhouse, the wind, and the laws of nature in the second stanza. As Simic moves into the third stanza, he gives us the details of nature, and uses those details as a transition into his reflection about the disconnect between laws of nature, and the inability of laws to capture the beauty and spirit of nature.

The craft of creating and using imagery and viewpoint has been influenced in the twentieth century by the techniques of filmmaking. As in film, writing verses of poetry involves cutting and splicing and setting up multiple visuals. There are four basic purposes we'll discuss here: expanding or compressing time; showing simultaneity, emotional contrast, or equivalency of corresponding events (associational logic, metaphor, and symbol); inserting repeated visuals (as in a refrain or fixed motif); and filling in pieces of the plot by inserting scenes from the past or future.

Cuts

Cuts splice different shots together so that the first shot is immediately replaced by the second.

The Straight Cut: is linear in direction, and acts to further the plot or theme in a straightforward way. For example, (cut 1) a boy stands in the outfield at a baseball game; (cut 2) a ball comes flying through the air and the boy catches it.

The Crosscut: shows actions taking place at the same time in two or more separate locations. In poetry, it's the construction known as the cut and shuffle poem.

The crosscut can also be used to show ironic contrast or philosophical resignation.

The Contrast Cut: is also used to heighten the tension in a situation, but while the crosscut may use similar shots in juxtaposition, the contrast cut always uses opposing shots. Let's say we've established a character who is a fireman.

The Jump Cut: actual time (the time it actually takes to do something in "real life") is foreshortened into felt time (the illusion of actual time). This is where we see the camera leaping from one action to another creating the illusion of continuous motion, but showing only a necessary small fraction of the action. Notice how Mark Strand uses the jumps in this excerpt from his poem "The Delirium Waltz" to make time seem like it's flying by.

The delirious dance goes on and on though the years, the jump cut whirling us along with it.

Metaphorical Dissolve

The metaphorical dissolve takes two different actions or images and unites them by their implied meanings. The first image is transformed into a second image that, in turn, then reinforces or changes the first image. Here is William Notter's, "Personnel Orientation" as an example:

Form Dissolve

The form dissolve juxtaposes images with similar physical characteristics. For example, a shot of a woman who has pricked her finger while sewing might dissolve/flashback to a time when she sewed her wedding gown; or a shot of the tranquil ocean lapping on a shore might ironically dissolve into a scene one hundred miles out, where an atomic blast experiment is taking place. Below is an example of how Rodney Jones uses the form dissolve in two lines at the beginning of his poem, "A Coronary in Liposuction"..

Flashback/Flashforward

The flashback is a shot or sequence that opens up in the middle of another time frame in order to add emotional, psychological, logical, or narrative context and dramatic weight to a story. It works like our mind, as when we're in the middle of an experience and we suddenly flash back onto some related incident we have experienced in the past. The flashforward is the opposite technique in which a past or present actions leaps forward into a real or imagined future event or image to supply information, knowledge, warning, or moral lessons of which the characters who are bound by the present usually aren't privy.

Substitute Image

The substitute image plays off the predictable stock response a reader is about to have by a closely related but unpredictable image. For example, in the film, From Here To Eternity, when Montgomery Cliff and Deborah Kerr are lying in the surf, the explosive sexuality is represented by a cut to the ocean's waves crashing in the surf. Notice the surprise at the turn in the passage below.

See how the expected romantic embrace can turn on an unexpected word or phrase that also somehow connects to the experience?

Establishing Shot

The establishing shot frames a great deal of information and context because it is a long-range view of a scene. It can be used as an opening shot to establish terrain or action or used as a closing shot to make a comment. In the following lines, an establishing shot quickly sets up a scene within which more particular action is taking place.

Deep Focus Shot

The deep focus shot is the omniscient point of view, it allows the reader to see background, middle ground, and foreground all in clear focus. Here are some lines that demonstrate this shot:

Angle

The angle of a shot indicates two aspects of a field of vision: the vertical height and horizontal tilt of the camera's viewpoint. This can be important, since the point of view can have a great psychological impact on the subject/content of the poem. For example, if the point of view is higher than what is being viewed, feelings of superiority or mastery might be summoned up, while a tilt to the camera's angle is often used to depict disorientation of psychosis. I will discuss two POV's below: the bird's-eye view, and the low-angle shot.

In the bird's-eye view, a shot is taken above a subject. While the bird's-eye view can emotionally imply physical distance and an all-encompassing comprehensibility, it can also emotionally imply arrogance, disinterest, omniscience, transcendence, accusation, or fear. We might use this point of view to write a narrative about being lost in the woods, or traveling across country.

In the low-angle shot, we establish a perspective that is beneath what is being viewed. Such a view can add a sense of guilt, smallness, intimidation, or helplessness to the narrative or image. If, for instance, we are writing a poem about childhood, we might want to take a view from under a dinner table, watching as the adults enjoy themselves at a party. Mark Jarman captures a moment of vulnerability using the low-angle shot in this passage from, "After Disappointment".

Movement

The pan is a movement that suggests the movement of our eyes when we sweep around a room, taking in images from a wide angle view. With this technique, we can build up a sense of mystery or create a lively sense of resonance and immediacy, and add a layering of images and information to the narrative or image. Notice how Wyatt Prunty pans the camera across the lake in this fragment of "The Lake House."

Movement, angle, deep-focus and establishing shots, substitute images, flashforwards and flashbacks, metaphorical and form dissolves, cuts, wipe-outs, segues, and story images are all good tools to keep in the toolbox you're building for this class.

Come back here often when you need a reminder of the many ways to give your imaginative thoughts and feelings the best use of space on the page. In the meantime, go to Exercise 2, and practice, practice, practice.