The Scrambled Poem--This Ancient Cathedral

ancient cedars jean schneider national poetry month poetry settler's cedar grove the scrambled poem Apr 19, 2023

By Carol Woolum Roberts

It is now the third week of taking different poetry exercises and attempting to write some poetry with the help of the book “The Writer as an Artist” by Pat Schneider.

This month, during National Poetry Month, I am participating in a 30-day journaling project through the Isolation Journals.  Each day I am working on an exercise about writing poetry.  Then I will share what comes from the exercise.  This exercise was much different than the first two.  It is always fun to try these attempts.

 

Exercise 13

The Scrambled Poem

This is another playful exercise that helps to disconnect habitual ways of thinking.  Write a simple little incident, a short narrative, beginning on line one, but using every fourth line on your page, skipping lines two and three.  When you get to the bottom of the page, go back to the top and write on each second line. When you get to the bottom, go back to the top again and write on each third line.  The scrambled result can be the raw material of a poem. Feel free to change, delete, or add to make your final poem.

 

Here is the poem I wrote based on a trip to the Settler’s Cedar Grove near Murray, Idaho.

 

This Ancient Cathedral

 

I turn off the Old River Road

Arrive in the parking lot

Cross the bridge.

 

I endure the graveled bumps and ruts on Eagle Creek Road.

Camera and water bottle by my side.

Temperatures drop a good ten degrees.

 

I enter the land of ancient beings.

Fairies and Nymphs.

Charred remains from a fire scar the trees.

 

The road turns dusty.

I glimpse magical creatures.

My gaze follows the path where the fire travelled.

 

I stir up the dirt.

Centuries old cedars surround me.

Solitary in this ancient cathedral.

 

I walk the path with reverence.

I worship My Creator.

I feel safe. I feel secure.

 

A resting place marked by benches.

Long ago creations by depression-era workers.

Magical and timeworn beings are my guardians.

_________________________________________________________

If you feel so inclined, give The Scrambled Poem a try this week, during National Poetry Week.

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