Poetry as practice: Writing as emotional sorting
There are seasons when emotions arrive like weather - stormy, strange, unnamed.
During those times, I’ve found that poetry is not a luxury. It’s a tool. A way to sort the sky inside.
This week, in Between Breaths, I invite you to sit with the soft, steady power of writing - not to impress, not to explain, but to understand what you feel by letting it take shape.
Poetry isn’t for poets. It’s for souls that are learning to listen - slowly, word by word.
Why we need space to feel
Emotions, when not given space, tend to blur together. Grief becomes irritation. Joy becomes anxiety. Sadness turns to numbness. In the absence of reflection, everything tightens.
Writing gives the swirling world inside of us a place to land. Even a few lines - scribbled in the margins of a day - can offer clarity.
Poetry doesn’t fix the storm.
But it builds a window into it.
For therapists and artists: Language as a bridge
Whether you're guiding others or holding your own emotional process, words can become grounding points. Therapists often use journaling prompts to support self-awareness. Artists write to accompany what they can’t yet paint.
In both roles, the goal is the same:
To create containers for the unsorted to unfold safely.
Poetic writing isn’t about metaphor or rhythm. It’s about resonance. It lets feelings breathe - without judgment, without outcome. It says:
“You’re allowed to exist just as you are. Let’s begin with a line.”
Poetry as somatic practice
Poetry lives in the body before it reaches the page.
Have you noticed how certain words feel like an exhale? Or how writing something down unclenches your chest, just a little?
That’s not accidental. That’s embodiment.
When we write slowly, intuitively, without forcing sense or grammar, we’re not only expressing emotions - we’re regulating them. The page becomes a place of internal sorting. A soft filing system for the overwhelmed self.
Practice prompt: Emotional sorting through gentle lines
Try this sometime during your day, especially if you feel unclear or overfull:
Breathe for a few minutes. Not deeply, just honestly.
Write without stopping for 5–10 minutes. Begin with:
“Right now, what I know is…”
Let your lines be fragments. Let them stutter. Let them sigh.
End by circling or underlining one sentence that feels like a small truth.
Place that line somewhere visible for the rest of the day.
This is not for the world. It’s for you - to know where you are.
How the poem paints itself
This week’s paintings came through differently. They felt more like a written piece than a visual one - layered with quiet stanzas, barely there shapes, faint outlines that looked like sentences forgotten mid-thought. In it, I saw softness.
A field of thoughts before they are formed.
And somehow, that felt like a form of poetry too.
Art and poetry don’t live in separate rooms.
They sit at the same table. They wait together.
Poetry for emotional clarity
Emotional clarity isn’t about knowing exactly what you feel. It’s about being present enough to let your feelings speak for themselves. Writing - especially poetry - helps untangle.
Not solve. Not conclude. Just… open space.
A gentle offering: 5 art prompts for emotional clarity
If you’d like to explore this more gently, I’ve created a free resource:
5 art prompts for emotional clarity
They pair beautifully with written reflection, offering visual and poetic ways to meet yourself, just as you are.
Download your free prompts here
You don’t need to be a poet. You only need to be someone willing to listen closely - to the breath, to the body, to the quiet shape of a feeling finding its first word. Poetry is a practice. Let it hold you, between breaths.
