Week 1

Congratulations, You’re Doing It. Stop Panicking.

April is National Poetry Month in the US. Which is great news for poets who are sharpening pencils, opening fresh notebooks and writing things that feel a little too honest for a … it appears to be Wednesday. And elsewhere, just as many people are thinking, “that’s lovely… but not for me.”

THIS is for you.

The ones who don’t write poetry.
The ones who think they don’t have the words.
The ones who’ve decided that literary door belongs to someone else.

This month, we’re opening it anyway. Because every April, something happens. People start writing poems…*gasp* On purpose.

Don’t worry. I’m not asking you to become the kind of person who journals by candlelight and casually drops the word longing into conversations. I am, however, going to gently drag you into writing a poem. You can resist. If you’re here to the end, It won’t help, resistance is futile.

Let’s get one thing out of the way. You already think you don’t write poetry. I hear it all the time. You’ve decided this about yourself. Possibly years ago. Possibly after being forced to create a questionable rhyming couplet, pairing “love” with “above,” in school for your mum.

That’s fine. You can keep that belief. We’re just going to ignore it for a bit.

But here’s the thing, you’ve already written poetry. You just keep pretending it doesn’t count because it doesn’t match the idea you have of how poetry should be.

That message you typed, reread, and deleted because it shared more than you were ready to admit. The comment that came out a little heavier, or a little cringier, than expected. The moment you replayed in your head for no good reason, as if that was helping.

That’s it. That’s the material we are going to work with today.

There are over 150 formal poetry styles, each with its own name and set of rules, and I use the word rules lightly. Because the truth is, poetry itself doesn’t have rules. Specific styles do, if you want to write a sonnet, a haiku, or a limerick, there are patterns you can follow. But poetry as a whole is much looser than that.

You can make up your own style. Your own rhythm. Your own way of saying things. And it’s still poetry. It might not fit neatly into a known form, it might not have a name yet, but that doesn’t make it any less real.

So before you overthink this into oblivion, let’s begin and we’ll lower the bar. A lot. You’re welcome. Nothing highbrow, we’re just stealing something small from your day before your brain convinces you it doesn’t matter.

✨ This Week’s Tool: The Moment Method

You don’t wait for a poem. You start with a moment. Something small. Something specific. Something your brain is already trying to downplay or dismiss. That’s usually the one.

Here’s how it works:
you take one moment
you write it down in lines
and you leave it alone

No polishing. No overthinking. No “let me make this sound better.” We’re not doing that today.

You can reuse this method anytime for any poem. Any style. Any day you don’t know what to write. You really don’t need a big idea. You need one moment, just acknowledge it happened.

✨ Steal a Moment

Pick one:

• the last thing that annoyed you

• something oddly specific that happened today

• a moment you almost reacted to, the words you swallowed, the moment you decided to “Haud yer wheesht” (hold your tongue)

• something that felt off, and you can’t quite explain why

Now write it down in 3 to 5 lines.

Not sentences. Lines. A line can be one word. Don’t panic. You’re fine. It’s not cheating.

Break it wherever it feels natural, or awkward, or slightly dramatic. I’m not judging.

We’re not fixing it. We’re just writing it.

🦋 Example:

I didn’t take the call

my phone buzzed twice
and I knew it was you
I let it sit face down
like that proved something
even if it changed nothing

Is it polished? No.

Is it trying too hard? Also no.

It just exists. That’s the goal.

Here’s where most people get stuck:

They try to make it sound
* Better.
* Deeper.
* More poetic.

Don’t.

The second you start performing, you lose the moment. Let it be plain. Let it be specific. Let it be a little awkward. That’s where the good stuff hides. You don’t need divine inspiration, you need one small mundane moment before it slips away. That’s it.

If you wrote something, even one line, “you’re in” welcome to the April Poets Society…I just made that up. You don’t have to call yourself a poet. You don’t have to show anyone. You just have to admit, even if quietly, that something in your day was worth keeping.

If you want, drop your phat beats in the comments. Or just tell me what an inspiration I’ve been and that you’ll be joining me for the Dragon’s and Butterflies Challenge that drops on Sunday the 6th over at Vision2Verse on substack (I’m the co-host and spoiler, I’m not the dragon…🦋)

✨Most of all I want you to:

Just notice what it felt like
to stop
and keep something
instead of letting it pass.✨🦋

By: Heather Patton / Verdant Butterfly

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A creative space with enchanting stories and poems. I write fantasy, folklore and genre bending prose that can step off the path into comedy, adventure or the unsettling at any moment.
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