A Sense of Place: Tuesday Tryouts

24 Jan

7:28 a.m. — Atlanta

Hello, all. How are you this new new year? For those dragons among us, we already rule, but this is our year. If you wanted to write a poem and instil a sense of dragon, how would you go about it? Think about it for a few minutes…

Notice how I segue into our topic for today: How do we go about instilling a sense of place in our poetry?  Place is huge. Several of the prompt sites, that many of us frequent, have touched on place. I will try not to duplicate exercises, but this is an area we will play in for a while.

Think about what you mean when you talk, or think, about place in poetry… feel free to jot notes to yourself as we go along. Notes warm the brain up. What is place?

Does a place have an identity before we identify it, or give it a name? Once we identify the running water keeping us from the other side, as river, we begin to give it a more specific identity. Large river. Large muddy river. The Mississippi. The mighty Mississippi. Ah, now we are getting somewhere. The places that we identify, name, and give meaning to, have a strong sense of place. Our goal is to figure out how to establish that sense of place in our writing.

We need to know what we each mean by sense of place. Is it merely physical? Does an emotion need to be attached to the place to establish the sense? Paris. An oasis. The Yangtze River. Stonehenge. The desert. What images and feelings popped up as you read through the list? Mull for a few minutes [you continue to jot notes] about how you might establish a sense of place if you were to write about one of these places.

But let’s start with your own baseline landscape: The special bond which develops between children and their childhood environments has been called a ‘primal landscape’ by human geographers. This childhood landscape forms part of people’s identity and constitutes a key point of comparison for considering subsequent places later in life. As people move around as adults, they tend to consider new places in relation to this baseline landscape experienced during childhood. Wikipedia — article worth reading, should you have the time. It is short.

Identify your baseline landscape. You may choose a larger whole, such as a city, or an aspect, such as surrounding mountains. Whichever you choose, it should possess that which cannot be replicated in any other place. Consider that your audience has never been there [even if you know they live in that place]. How are you going to convey the sense of place so that your readers have an idea of the truth of your place? More notes.

The structure is up to you. Much depends on whether free verse, or a more formal form, is more suited to establishing your place. Remember that form and content go hand in hand. You will need to consider concrete details and sensory imagery in your quest to establish the sense of place of your baseline landscape. This week we have been playing with symbols with one of Joseph’s ‘Reveries‘. Consider symbol as a way in.

You may decide that your piece works better as prose, and that’s fine too. Don’t keep yourself from posting because you think you must have a poem. The objective is establishing a sense of place in your writing.

I can’t wait to read and feel your landscapes. Remember that you can and may post anytime.

I shall see you Thursday for announcements — anymore to go in? Friday will be our roundup of the week’s prompts. And, next Tuesday, since you seem to enjoy them so much, a painting from which to write.

Happy writing, everyone.

P.S. Should a sense of dragon poem arise, post. We dragons have our own sense of place.


Posted by on 24/01/2012 in exercises, poetry, writing


Tags: , , , , ,

74 responses to “A Sense of Place: Tuesday Tryouts

  1. rosross

    24/01/2012 at 9:03 am

    The scales hug close my wounded self,
    and yet the fire burns bright,
    within the bloodied reptile heart
    which beats in time with hope.
    This serpent self is sourced in time,
    and ancient, endless brain,
    which marks the passage from that place,
    where instinct ruled my mind.
    Beyond the fork of twisted thoughts,
    the tongue of reason reached,
    and drew me from my my basest Self;
    on shining swords of light.

    • margo roby

      24/01/2012 at 1:43 pm

      Ros! It is wonderful to not only see your smiling face, but to have a poem. How lovely it is, too. I feel the dragon most in the middle four lines, but like the evolving of the dragon’s lizard brain. The image of the dragon is vivid.


      • viv blake

        25/01/2012 at 5:57 am

        And I love the tongue of reason and what it does. Thank you for posting this, Ros, it was a complete treat!

  2. The Happy Amateur

    24/01/2012 at 9:54 am

    ‘To Phoenix’

    Have mercy on your Dragon, love,
    Please, pity me, I pray,
    My little sparkly, flaming dove,
    My tiny bird of prey.

    They say we have to represent
    Both struggle and harmony,
    I don’t like cheesy sentiment,
    But girl, I do like thee!

    So let us not go by the book,
    Give me a fiery kiss,
    Let us forget the struggle, look,
    Let’s show them some bliss!

    We’ve just thrown a Dragon Birthday party for my daughter, learned a lot about the Chinese dragon.

    • margo roby

      24/01/2012 at 1:46 pm

      I like the dragon phoenix connection. And, your different take on presenting dragon is fun.

      Do you know what type of dragon your daughter is?


      And, no, this does not get you out of a place poem 🙂

      • The Happy Amateur

        24/01/2012 at 2:56 pm

        She was born in the year of the snake, actually. No dragons in our family. But since her birthday is close to the Lunar year, it’s become a tradition to throw a Chinese New Year themed party for her and her pals. We’ve done three so far, nine more to go 🙂
        Dragon and Phoenix in the Chinese mythology are depicted as man and wife, as well as rivals, if not enemies. They are supposed to represent conflict and marital bliss 🙂
        I do have a poem about a place, actually, but it’s not new, it was a response to We Write Poems:

        • margo roby

          24/01/2012 at 3:03 pm

          My mother and daughter are snakes. Almost as good as dragons 🙂

          I like the poem, but I’m thinking it doesn’t fulfill the exercise, hmmmm? 🙂

          • The Happy Amateur

            24/01/2012 at 5:07 pm

            I took a shot 🙂 No, I guess it doesn’t.. I’ll try to come up with something..

        • viv blake

          25/01/2012 at 6:01 am

          I remember this, it chimed well with my basic sense of place.

          • The Happy Amateur

            25/01/2012 at 6:30 am

            Thank you, Viv, it was definitely written about my ‘primal landscape.’

  3. markwindham

    24/01/2012 at 9:55 am

    Not a ‘sense of dragon’ – an actual dragon. Just some fun to start off. Be back later for ‘place’, I might actually be able to manage this one.

    • margo roby

      24/01/2012 at 1:50 pm

      Fun is good, Mark. I need fun. This dragon took a spill yesterday and it apparently takes us a longer time to get over a fall when we have a number of decades to our selves.

      I have every faith you’ll manage place. I really am looking forward to seeing people’s places. You’ll have several opportunities to approach the topic, should you be dissatisfied 🙂


  4. jane hoover

    24/01/2012 at 12:54 pm

    Way to go with this

  5. Joseph Harker

    24/01/2012 at 3:49 pm

    Beautiful and intricate prompt… definitely have to give this one a go. And I could be way off-base here, age-wise (and if I am I apologize!), but might this also be your element + sign combo year? If you were born in the year of the Water Dragon, now it’s come round again, which is pretty cool. Have a look: Stems-and-branches

    • margo roby

      24/01/2012 at 3:56 pm

      I am impressed. You are spot on, Joseph. It is my element and sign year, which is pretty neat, considering that doesn’t come around often enough to happen again, although with my family’s genes…

      There is an apartment building, in Hong Kong, built overlooking a beach. In the middle of the block of flats is a square hole, a couple of stories high and wide. The building was built with the hole, so that the neighbourhood water dragon will not have to fly around the building to get where it is going.


      • The Happy Amateur

        24/01/2012 at 7:23 pm

        Cool! I completely forgot you were growing up in Hong Kong, I was telling you about the Dragon and the Phoenix, and you must know all about them, silly me.

        • margo roby

          24/01/2012 at 8:44 pm

          Sasha, I never get tired of hearing about the things I grew up with 🙂


  6. The Happy Amateur

    24/01/2012 at 10:15 pm

    Neither do I, Margo. I’ve just written something about it.

    ‘The Place’

    I find that people do not understand me. They call me a city gal, they think I’m tough. I was born in a city, but I grew up in a ‘place.’

    It had tall buildings, and broad streets, and an ice skating rink, and a large hill with a winding river running below. In winter the hill became a long, steep slide and we would whee! all the way down with bottoms glued to pieces of cardboard. In summer the hill was covered in the sunburst of dandelions that made me – a kid with allergies – both happy and miserable.

    The place had an archway, and a sharp turn to the right, that led to a door. And behind that door it kept voices and memories, scents and sounds, touches and tastes, and reality laced with dreams… And that’s where it keeps me now, while a ghost of me wanders elsewhere.

    • margo roby

      25/01/2012 at 8:42 am

      I like that: “I was born in a city, but I grew up in a ‘place’” and “that’s where it keeps me now, while a ghost of me wanders elsewhere”.

      The narrative style suits the description. I love the second paragraph.

  7. viv blake

    25/01/2012 at 6:07 am

    Margo, your prompt is marvellous – it triggered so many memories that I filled two pages with 10 point type before I stopped for breath. I am definitely a ‘place’ person, and can answer GK questions about music or history or books just by thinking of where I was when hearing/ living/, reading them. And I have been in an awful lot of places.

    But to respond to your prompt, I need time to put this together, or it will simply be a mish-mash of memories. Watch this space (sorry: place)

    • margo roby

      25/01/2012 at 8:39 am

      How lovely, ViV. Keep all your notes. We will be dealing with place for a while, with the occasional break for change.

      I love place and writing about place, but find it difficult to grapple with the places I have strong ties to, so take all the time you need.

      🙂 space : place heh heh

  8. markwindham

    25/01/2012 at 12:47 pm

    I am still a bit muddle headed for new writing; can’t seem to hold a thought or idea long enough to get it our clearly. So, I thought I would try for feedback on a couple of previous ones to get a better feel for direction. This one was about my Dad and I am not sure he is ready to read it yet so it is not posted on my site in case he were to stop by.

    A solitary beach walker
    Where once two had been.
    Another sunrise among many,
    Begrudgingly sharing the shore
    With endless, timeless waves,
    And soaring, screeching seabirds.
    Uncertain what to do
    With his empty right hand
    Where once two had been.
    Looking for that reason to be thankful
    In breezes chilled by late November;
    Leaving flowers on the sand –
    Marking where ashes were spread.
    A solitary beach walker,
    Where once two had been.

    A couple of others:

    So…,my question for teacher is – is the concept of the prompt to be about the place (1st link)(and now that I think about it, that one is still about an event at a place), or a ‘sense’ of the place incorporated into the larger piece (like I tried in the others)? Or some combination? Or neither? And do any of these fit the idea?

    Can you tell my mind is scattered? Whew! Maybe a nap would be good…. Feedback, PLEASE.

    • margo roby

      25/01/2012 at 1:50 pm

      You poor, miserable son of a gun. But, hey, you’re up. Me? I would be sniffling miserably in a corner. I am not a good patient.

      Ahhh. I just read the poem. Mark, it is lovely. And, not only have you established a clear picture of your father, but you give a strong sense of the place: sunrise = time, implies colours, early. The endless waves speaks both to your father’s empty time stretching out [it does get batter. My mother has been alone almost twenty years and has made a happy fulfilling life and her marriage was one of the special ones], but also gives us sound. You give movement and sound with the birds. November and chill, time and temperature. And, almost detail I mention adds to the loneliness.

      Now, I’ll look at the others. Do show him this one day.


      • markwindham

        25/01/2012 at 4:10 pm

        I am more of a ‘leave me the h**l alone’ kind of patient, but can’t stand too long of bed and TV.

        These comments give me a good sense of what I am working towards.

    • margo roby

      25/01/2012 at 2:22 pm

      I hope you are napping.

      I have comments on the three poems, at the three poems, so you can look at your own words.

      For this particular prompt, the closest to a childhood baseline place is the porch, shelling the pecans. The first seven lines are terrific. I am there. So, how do you keep me there while telling the story of that moment that was/is a part of your life?


      • markwindham

        25/01/2012 at 4:03 pm

        Sadly, no nap in the plans today; back to a full day of work. Although the marketing meeting I just sat through did almost put me to sleep. Luckily, a lot of my job I can do in my sleep, or at least foggy headed.

        Comments read, all good and somewhat in line with my expectations. Pondering the question on the first one, but think I have an idea on the answer (that one was a ‘pre-Margo’s input’ piece). 😉

        I think I shall up my treatment tonight to include hot toddies whilst I contemplate a sense of place.

        Thank you for the feedback as always.

        • margo roby

          25/01/2012 at 4:09 pm

          Clearly we are kin somewhere — first the beer, now the hot toddies. I may have a toddy just because.

          Take care of yourself.

  9. wordsandthoughtspjs

    25/01/2012 at 1:43 pm

    This is a prompt right up my alley, Margo. I have to let this linger and take lots of notes, from memory or present, just not sure yet. I will be back in a day or two with something.


    • margo roby

      25/01/2012 at 1:53 pm

      We will have several prompts to do with place over the next several weeks, Pamela. So keep those notes around!

      See you soon.


      • The Happy Amateur

        25/01/2012 at 2:11 pm

        Margo, thank you very much for the interview. When you say the loss is still a part of who you are, even after years and years, I can understand, and feel it so well. When you take that trip across Russia, I’d like to come along! 🙂 I’ve never done it, but I heard it’s amazing, I bet it is. Best of luck, and thanks again for a glimpse into your life, and for Wordgathering.

        • margo roby

          25/01/2012 at 2:17 pm

          I am on my way over to read it myself, Sasha! Stopped by to reply to your comment. Thank you for it 🙂


  10. wordsandthoughtspjs

    26/01/2012 at 12:48 am

    No early classes tomorrow, yay! So, I wrote to the prompt. I took it from our first drive across the border, and how strange everything felt then. Thanks for the prompt, Margo.


    “No Traffic Lights”

    • margo roby

      26/01/2012 at 12:27 pm

      You are welcome, Pamela. Sounds like an interesting write. I am heading right over.

      And, congratulations on no early classes.


      • wordsandthoughtspjs

        26/01/2012 at 2:43 pm

        Darn it! I now see where I flubbed this prompt.

        • margo roby

          26/01/2012 at 3:02 pm

          You did not flub the prompt. You wrote another poem. That’s the most important thing…unless you would like me to agree with you 🙂


  11. whimsygizmo

    26/01/2012 at 1:57 am

    First time here. Thanks for the great prompt.

    (a Fib)

    the truth
    and I weave
    lies; this sand under
    my feet has no shore, and I am
    weary of tumbleweed, tumbled
    heart. Cold footprints etch
    strange address,
    find me

    • margo roby

      26/01/2012 at 12:25 pm


      I love saying your blog name.

      And, I like very much how you take the prompt in the more difficult, abstract direction. The form is particularly well suited to your content.

      I hope to see you again.


      • whimsygizmo

        26/01/2012 at 3:39 pm

        Thanks so much for the warm welcome, margo. Loved this thoughtful prompt, and planning to be back.

  12. Irene

    26/01/2012 at 5:45 am

    An inspiring prompt, Margo, I had a go.

    dreaming in space

    • margo roby

      26/01/2012 at 12:28 pm

      I am glad, Irene. I shall head over now.


  13. viv blake

    26/01/2012 at 1:07 pm

    I do hope you’ll think this was worth waiting for!

    • margo roby

      26/01/2012 at 1:34 pm

      I can’t wait. Heading over now.


  14. b_y

    26/01/2012 at 1:25 pm

    Funny. I just couldn’t settle into this. I did get a poem but it is odd, and unfocused. Pretty much the opposite to what you’re looking for.

    • margo roby

      26/01/2012 at 1:34 pm

      Not like you at all, Barb. I am interested to read it. And you will have several opportunities to have a place poem you are happier with. I have about seven prompts dealing with place…


  15. whimsygizmo

    26/01/2012 at 5:13 pm

    Dragon Song

    I would
    shed these scales
    if I could
    all of my outermost
    places, place my burning
    heart in your waiting hands,
    wrap your golden hair around
    each atrium
    and listen to its muffled
    murmured beat.
    Defeat these knights who
    try to claim you,
    slay me;
    lay my brightest treasures
    at your tiny feet.
    Scale castle walls
    conquer kingdoms
    and fly, free.
    the hero that you seek.

    • margo roby

      27/01/2012 at 7:38 am

      You hit me in my soft spot, whimsy g. Anything dragon. Interesting that both you ans Sasha write from the dragon’s viewpoint. The lines ‘wrap your golden hair around
      each atrium
      and listen to its muffled
      murmured beat.’



      • whimsygizmo

        27/01/2012 at 2:21 pm

        Thanks so much, margo. Had not read the dragon poems above yet. Just beautiful.

  16. markwindham

    27/01/2012 at 10:30 am

    First attempt (and not the experiment we discussed): not happy with the last stanza, seems like it needs to be broken into two.

    A Dog and His Boy

    Boy of five free to roam,
    brown of hair, eyes, skin (dark) –
    another time when neighborhoods
    were not places parents feared
    their children to wander alone.

    Outside was the place to be,
    not bothered by humid Mississippi
    heat that kept adults indoors after noon.
    Content to wander the pine trees
    with his dog and happy with the
    sticky sap from those he tried to climb.

    The dog, not as immune to August,
    tongue wagging, always at the boys feet.
    A mutt of a thing, front legs shorter than back,
    Left ear longer than right, never to be left
    behind when out the door they went.

    Saturday mornings they walked to the lake
    where the dog was a celebrity to the
    fishermen who called his name. A good
    luck charm they knew, for whoever he sat
    near seemed always to get the catch.

    Carefree play the only order of the day,
    broken only by taking shelter from thunder
    and lightning of daily afternoon storms.
    The exhaustion of exuberance tucked the
    boy in each night, his dog still at his feet.

    Let me know if there is a sense of place.

    • margo roby

      27/01/2012 at 11:14 am

      This is an interesting poem to work with as it is a combination of telling and telling by showing. Where you show, there is a sense of place. Ready to cut and shift ? Thank God, for computers. although if your brain works like mine, I print out some of my poems and cut them up and then shuffle them around. It’s amazing what comes up.

      Some things to consider and to try: I don’t think you need the last three lines of the first stanza. That comes through. If you want to make a point about the time period consider your title: 1980, A Boy and His Dog. Then you can take the first three lines of the last stanza and add them to the first two lines of the first stanza.

      Because all the other stanzas have five lines, the second one needs to. Editors look at something like that [and some readers] and think: Mistake? Did the writer not notice? If the stanzas are all different it doesn’t matter. The exception is the last stanza, which can act as a punctuation, a summing up, and be two or three lines.

      Second stanza, try switching the order of ideas:

      Content to wander the pine trees
      with his dog and happy with the
      sticky sap from those he tried to climb,
      not bothered by humid Mississippi
      heat that kept adults indoors after noon.

      I’m liking that, which does not mean you have to. Fourth stanza, rather than have the first three lines happen that way, have it actually happen.

      Saturday mornings they walked to the lake —
      Joey! Joey! Here, boy! The fishermen
      called out the dog’s name. A good
      luck charm they knew, for whoever he sat
      near seemed always to get the catch.

      I do love revising! Okay, next draft. See what happens as your mind feeds off the new.


      • markwindham

        27/01/2012 at 11:44 am

        hhmmm, (picture Pooh on his log, tapping his forehead, “think, think, think’). Good stuff. Off to the drawing….darn thing fell over again. 1980? If only…

        • margo roby

          27/01/2012 at 3:10 pm

          LOVE the description. You realise, mark, that you are winnie the pooh from now on? I pondered the year thing for awhile. Math is not my strong suit. I meant ’70, really.


          drawing board fell over…heh heh heh.

          • markwindham

            27/01/2012 at 3:27 pm

            I am good with that. i am often a bear of little brain.

            • margo roby

              27/01/2012 at 3:37 pm

              Wow! Strong moment of nostalgia. My grandmother, one of the smartest people I ever knew, would say that while looking woeful.


      • markwindham

        27/01/2012 at 3:26 pm

        Ok, kept most of that, changed a couple plus a little. Explanation of changes:
        -Decided not to put the date, I think you are right that enough of a time is implied.
        -Liked the change to 1st and last stanza
        -liked the change of order in second stanza, continues thought from 1st, changed the last line though; like the play of sap/sapped. Works?
        -Slight change on idea for 4th as well, like the ‘hailed’ (as in a returning hero)

        A Dog and His Boy

        Boy of five free to roam,
        brown of hair, eyes, skin (dark) –
        carefree play the only order of the day,
        broken only by taking shelter from thunder
        and lightning of daily afternoon storms.

        Content to wander the pine trees
        with his dog and happy with the
        sticky sap from those he tried to climb,
        not bothered by humid Mississippi
        heat that sapped adults of energy.

        The dog, not as immune to August,
        tongue wagging, always at the boys feet.
        A mutt of a thing, front legs shorter than back,
        left ear longer than right, never to be left
        behind when out the door they went.

        Saturday mornings they walked to the lake –
        Come here, Hobo, over here! The
        fishermen hailed the dog. A good luck
        charm they knew, for whoever he sat
        near seemed always to get the catch.

        The exhaustion of exuberance tucked the
        boy in each night, his dog still at his feet.

        Tag, your it. 🙂

        • margo roby

          27/01/2012 at 3:35 pm

          I love how you can make me laugh out loud. Tag, you’re it. If I giggled I would, but I’m chuckling.

          The poem. Yes. I like your instincts. They are sound. It works better now, more cohesively. Like the sap/sapped, very much. I also like the left/left in stanza three. I didn’t mention it before, but noticed it the first time and liked it. Yes, on hailed. Plays well.

          Love a poem when it works. Can we have a beer now. Oh wait, you’re at work still. I’ll toast the poem 🙂

          • markwindham

            27/01/2012 at 3:40 pm

            Ouch, that just hurts. No beer for me tonight; have to get up at 6:00 tomorrow to take my son to take the SATs. 7th grade and invited to take them, kid is already smarter then me.

            • margo roby

              27/01/2012 at 3:50 pm

              I’ll have one for you, because I am that kind of friend.

              If you haven’t already, start instilling in your son the notion that it is an expectation he support you in your old age.


            • markwindham

              27/01/2012 at 3:59 pm

              Oh yea, started that plan a while back. You will enjoy this: My wife was supposed to take him, then the conversation last night was – “If YOU take him then you can drop him off and over 4 hours free to go somewhere and write.” Guess who is not a morning person.

  17. margo roby

    27/01/2012 at 4:40 pm

    She’s no dummy! Yes, mornings are painful. Fortunately, except for a half hour before Skip leaves for work, I don’t have to be civil or even kempt. Enjoy the writing time.

  18. pmwanken

    27/01/2012 at 11:23 pm


    This poem is not my entire landscape, but it was the first thing that popped into my head as I read the prompt…so I wrote a poem from that thought. I had planned to go back and write a more “proper” landscape / poem of place, poem — but time has slipped. Perhaps this will be yet another prompt revisited.


    • margo roby

      28/01/2012 at 10:52 am

      It is so nice to see your smiling face again, Paula. I have missed it and you.

      Time does that doesn’t it? Gets worse, let me warn you. The good news prompt-wise, is, as you know, that you can write and post any time you want 🙂 I’m coming over to read what you came up with.


  19. Joseph Harker

    28/01/2012 at 3:10 pm

    I finally ended up with something that was not what I expected, and not quite what was asked. But hey, these things rarely are, are they? Year of the Dragon

    • margo roby

      28/01/2012 at 3:27 pm

      Joseph, the hardest thing I have to do is to convince readers it’s okay to not write what is asked, if that’s what the brain wants to write. The prompt is only a spark…unless one is trying a form and even then…

  20. pmwanken

    29/01/2012 at 2:25 am

    I took another stab at “place” in conjunction with the wordle….


  21. Mary

    29/01/2012 at 7:39 pm

    Hi Margo, I worked with the idea of ‘primal landscape’ today. I believe this poem is a beginning rather than an end; but it called me to write it. I do think you are right on when you say that the ‘landscape’ one knows as a child affects the person the rest of his/her life. I do know that I can recollect more specific details of my childhood backyard (which i wrote about) than about any other backyards I have experienced since that time. With no further comments, here is what I came up with:

  22. margo roby

    29/01/2012 at 9:03 pm

    Hi Mary, I look forward to reading your landscape. My strongest memories are of my childhood places. The tiny details I remember astonish me. Not just remember. I see them as if they are right there within my reach, as if only a moment ago I was there.


  23. Caddoc Trellis

    02/02/2012 at 7:16 am

    Places we love leave their mark upon us, that’s for sure…

    • margo roby

      04/02/2012 at 10:57 am

      Hello, welcome and thank you for the comment. I just found you languishing in spam. If I remember Wales [yes, I checked you out], the entire landscape possesses a sense of place.


  24. b_y

    08/02/2012 at 2:27 pm

    Thought I’d take another run at this one before tackling the hammock. It’s still very rough, and more prose than poem in a lot of ways.


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