How does a poem begin?
How does a poem begin?
I was going to say a poem really begins when the poet begins because every poem pulls from the sum of our life’s experiences, from the lens we have developed to see the world, and so on, but it felt both generic and unhelpful.
So. To be less obnoxious about it, I think the literal beginning of a poem for me is generally some small friction, an observation or image or concept or feeling that sticks out. When I’ve started collecting enough of them in my Notes app and/or notebook that orbit each other there’s a feeling kind of like having a loose tooth, the seed of a poem lurking in the back of my mind. I’ll worry it every now and again, try to feel its shape, its give.
Eventually once it feels like the concept of the poem has reached a critical mass I’ll sit down and take a crack at it. Once in a while (rarer than I’d like) the poem will rush out all at once. More often I have to sit with the different pieces I’ve gathered, arrange them, find how they connect. Sometimes I’ll only get partway through the poem and have to wait until I’ve gathered more threads to tie into the poem, revisit it until it reaches some semblance of completeness.
What makes a good poem?
I have to resist the urge to sound like a vague and somewhat unreasonable call for submissions here. Yeah it’s pretty great when a poem throws all the windows open, sings to the marrow, sets fire to the mountain, etc. etc. but I think a poem can still be “good” without being the kind of poem that’s once-in-a-lifetime. By “good,” I mean, in my completely subjective and extremely biased opinion, a poem that is compelling, that draws you in, that moves you in some way.
I think, to be boring and straightforward about it, a good poem has something to say and has found the right way to say it. A poem whose content feels seamless with the choice of poetic elements such as form, structure, metaphor, language, and sound. By “seamless” I don’t mean obvious or predictable, rather that the poem’s central tension and the poem’s building blocks complement and heighten each other, sharpen the poem, bring it into relief.
I think a good poem finds a balance of frills and honesty. I love a little self-indulgent twirling as much as the next poet, but too much and the poem feels like a cotton candy void. Too little and it feels like reading a report instead of a poem. Then there is what is said and what is left unsaid, if the poet gives the reader enough substance to grip the poem while leaving enough space for them to find themselves in the poem or to consider multiple layers of meaning, multiple paths through the poem.
There’s more criteria, of course, like if the poem feels fresh or inventive, if it challenges the reader, its timeliness. But this cohesion and balance are what I find to be the foundation of a good poem.
Qurat Dar is the author of Non-Prophet (Goose Lane Editions 2025), winner of the inaugural Claire Harris Poetry Prize and a Lambda Literary Award finalist. She was the City of Mississauga’s Youth Poet Laureate from 2021-2023 and the 2020 Canadian Individual Poetry Slam National Champion. Qurat’s poems have appeared in Augur, EVENT, Arc Poetry Magazine, and across the Toronto Transit Commission (TTC) network.
