How to write poems without writing one
Crafting poems using blackout poetry
If you allow me to make generalisations, I would go on to say that every young writer starts with writing poems. Not the kind of poems that win them awards or accolades, but the ones that help them find a safe space to express, to make sense of the world, and to further find a friend in the page (or the Notes app).
My first piece of writing was a poem. I had just moved to a new city. I was lonely, and having moved miles from where I spent my childhood, I was trying to make sense of the world. That’s when I resorted to writing poems to find some peace.
While I would always be found laughing or donning a smile, my poems spoke otherwise. When I revisit a few of my poems from high school and college days, it almost feels as if I’m reading an account of a depressed teenager. Whether I really was one or not is an internal dialogue to solve another day. But if there’s one thing I used to feel a lot in those times, it was anguish and pain.
Early 20s is such a time where most people struggle to find meaning, life, love, friendships, and by virtue of how exhausting and consuming these reflections are, I found myself utterly depleted of tools and energy to handle myself emotionally.
That’s when my beloved Notes app came to the rescue. I had this superpower of writing poems out of thin air. Today, I write in multiple drafts, but at that time, I would write a poem from start to end in no time and would almost sit back and pat myself on the back after having written one. I would really surprise myself on some of these days - where was all this coming from, and why did it feel so cathartic? Was I even as sad as I portrayed on the page?
My poems left me gradually… Around the same time, I graduated from college and started to work. And somehow, they never returned.
Again, during the pandemic, amidst the chaos and traumatic events that spread across the world, a poem or two returned to me, only to return back to the Narnia of the poetry world.
In the past few years, I have written almost every other day - short stories, children’s books, articles, Instagram captions, and for the past year, this Substack. But I could never find the courage to open my Notes app to write a poem.
I wonder why… I really do. When I was so busy in college, almost having no time to myself, how could I possibly write poems out of thin air and find the courage to even share them on social media, while now, as a full-time writer, I hardly find myself inspired enough to write a poem?
My poetry left me once I got hold of other ways to express myself - photographs, longer pieces, Instagram captions, and other creative experiments.
A part of me celebrates the journey I’ve had as an artist, and yet there is a part of me that laments the loss of poetry from my life.
A little more than a year ago, I stumbled upon this beautiful video on YouTube, which changed how I approach my writing and creative work in general.
Austin Kleon of the Steal like an Artist fame talked about his much-loved book of the same name and its origins. He shared how in college, he was suffering through a major writing block. And through that angst of finding something worthy to write, he stumbled upon a stack of newspapers and realised - how could he be in a writing block when there were thousands of words just lying down right in front of him?
He started to read the newspaper, underlining a few words he liked. Later, he blackened everything else using a black Sharpie, revealing a poem of sorts.
What I love about Austin Kleon’s approach to creativity is that it invites a lot of grace and free will to the artist. He debunks myths, fights incorrect perspectives, and, like an experienced mentor, holds your hand to walk you through the dark. If there’s one thing I’ve learnt from him that has transformed my creativity, it’s the revelation that nothing is original in this world.
He even goes on to share how his method of writing poetry by blacking out a newspaper has a rich 250-year-old history (watch the video to find out more).
While I’ve been a student of Austin Kleon and have religiously consumed all his videos, podcasts, books, and anything there is to consume, it took me time to actually start stealing all that he preached or experimented with.
Austin is also into zines, so I stole that too. Even took multiple workshops on zine making.
Lately, I’ve been trying to invite some poetry back into my life. When the initiation and ceremonies failed to work, I resorted to what my generous mentor shared - stealing.
And so, I’ve started blackout poetry. I’m doing it my way. I don’t live in the city, so procuring a newspaper often is difficult, so I started with Substack articles. I’ve been trying to get back to poetry by blackening Substack articles only to reveal a little poem out of them. I’m still trying to make sense of the process and get the hang of it.
I miss my old self, the one who wasn’t a writer but could weave poems while standing in a crowded government bus, who could write about love, pain, loneliness, home, even without really knowing or understanding what all of it was, who had no time to create but still created and shared, who wore his heart on his sleeve.
Perhaps I need to steal from my younger self too.
To poetry.
I invite you to reflect and write on the following prompt:
Write a letter to an art form you’ve abandoned, poetry, painting, journaling, telling it what you miss and if you want it back.
To get started - “Dear ___, I didn’t mean to leave you…”
As a feature of all my newsletters, I share one blackout poem, song, one book, one plant-based meal, one film/video that inspired me, and some photographic updates from my life.
Blackout Poem:
Song:
Book/Newsletter: Loved reading about the OG traveller - Ibn Battuta
Meal: After travelling for the past 2.5 weeks, I returned to my home in Himachal yesterday. The best part of being at my parents’ home this time was relishing on big, fat mangoes. I get mangoes here in Himachal too, but nothing like I get in Delhi. Goes without saying, with the mangoes in front of me, there was no chance that I would wait to click a photo!
Film/Video: Watched Meiyazhagan, incredibly simple, soft and touches the right chords in the heart. Enjoyed savouring every minute of the long film.
Photograph(s):
sunset in Pune + hands in the local HRTC bus
Read my other newsletters :
Why I Ran From Vipassana
The story of moving to the mountains
My relationship with failure
Photography, my first love
Read my short stories :
Socratree
Quenched
Chetak
Coronaceptive
Compilation of all recommendations :
Video recommendations
Music recommendations
Books read
Free Journaling eBook:
Last year, I compiled a journaling ebook for myself for times when I feel I have nothing to write. I am offering it to you for free. Whether you’re starting your journaling journey or feeling stuck in a creative block, this guide will help you find your way.
Download your journaling eBook here.
Thank you for reading my work
Rishabh
Your latest blackout & the entire piece is lovely... God bless, may you winover narnia soon enough!
Your latest blackout & the entire piece is lovely... God bless, may you winover narnia soon enough!