Writinglike miters: freewriting and formal constrm’nt

Writing like writers in the

classroom: lree writing and
formal constraint
Cliff Yates
Poet and teacher; Deputy Head of Maharishi School

Abstract
This paper considers how ‘free writing’, derived from the automatic
writing of the surrealists, can be used with students in writing poetry in
order to emulate the successful practice of established writers. The paper
considers how form can be taught, specifically line breaks and stanza
breaks, both in relation to free writing and in reiation to drafting, and
argues that drafting should be considered an extension of the creative act
of writing rather than as something which is dore afterwards ‘to’ pre-
existing work.

Key Words
free writing, improvisation, line breaks; drafting

6 Engl-shin Education Vo1.41 No.3 2007

 Cliff Yates

Introduction
T h s paper arises from my own practice as a poet, my work as a teacher,
my experience of working with other poets in the workshop situation and
my practice-based research into creative writing and poetics. In Jumpstarst
Poety in the Seconday School I explore the way in which the techniques
of writers’ workshops can be used in the classroom (Yates, 1999). In this
paper, I consider the value of free writing in the classroom, as used in
writers’ workshops. in relation to examples of students’ work, arguing that
the use of this technique provides access to a procedure used by
practising writers. Further, experience of focusing on the use of line and
stanza breaks, with reference both to the work of established poets and
their own poems, allows students to make creative and conscious
decisions about how to match form and content in their work, thereby
treating drafting as an extension of the creative act of writing, rather than
as something whic 1 is carried out on work already completed.

It is important to sate that I am not arguing that writing without a clear

idea of the outcon-e is the o d y way of writing, or indeed one that is
somehow superior to other ways of writing. I am arguing, however, that
it has certain advantages, not least as a procedure that allows students to
produce remarkab’le poems and, as I have argued elsewhere, writing
poems has signific.int benefits for other work in English, both in reading
and writing (Yates. 1999: x).

Free writing
The most fundamental technique that I have derived from writers’
workshops is the 1 se of free writing, whereby the students write for a
limited amount of ime without stopping (Yates, 1999: 105-106). I first
came across free xx riting in the workshop situation at the monthly Writing
Days run by Peter Sansom at the Poetry Business in Huddersfield which I
started to attend in the early 1990s and which I now attend as a tutor.
Both Peter Sansom and I use the technique as a ‘warm up’, though in
practice the exerci.e often results in noticeably ‘finished’poems from
workshop participFnts. Once the technique has been used as a warm up,
its principles extend to further exercises, which might make use of
poems by establisl-ed writers, particularly the principle of writing without
stopping, and writing without a clear notion of the outcome. Free writing
is not merely a workshop technique, it is a way of writing, as I will
establish, which is used by all kinds of writers, including novelists. The
technique of free vrriting (sometimes going by other names, such as ‘hot
penning’, ‘automat c writing’ and ‘writing practice’) is also advocated in
handbooks on writing, as a technique available to the individual writer
(Sansom, 1994: 68: Sweeney and Williams, 1997: 9; Goldberg, 1986: 8).

Free writing can be described as experimental, using John Cage’s

definition: ‘What is the nature of an experimental action? It is simply an

0 Nate and Contributors 2007 7

Wrlting llke writers: free writing and formal constraint

action the outcome of which is not foreseen’ (Caye, 1987: 69). It

describes a way of workmg which is not confined to writing but is
equally true of other art forms. The painter, Larry Rivers, for example,
discusses how an accident may lead to modifications of the work: ‘In
painting something happens - paint falls on you]. canvas - and you use
it. Or reject it by rubbing it out’ (O’Hara, 1971: 117). In the same way, a
writer can be influenced by what occurs in the environment, or by what
thoughts happen to occur during the act of composition. Creating an
atmosphere where the students are open to the environment gives
permission for an openness in the writing. This is the purpose behind the
kind of successful approach that poets llke Ian RIcMillan create in the
classroom, where he makes use of objects in the room and stories that
students bring with them, giving them mythcal status and thereby
making them worthy of art: ‘We sit in a group and make group poems
about mythical characters; I ask them to tell me Liboutthe weirdest thing
that ever happen to them, and for that moment it‘s magic’ (McMillan in
Yates, 1999: 34). Free writing can also be defined as improvisation, which
Derek Bailey describes as ‘the celebration of the moment’ (Bailey, 1980:
151). It is an act of writing which is responsive to the time of writing.

There is an important distinction to be made, hcwever, between

improvisation as Bailey is discussing it in terms of jazz, and the practice
of writing.’ There are a number of writers who regard themselves as
improvisational and whose writing can be discu.sed in these terms, for
example, Allen Ginsberg, who describes how he wrote ‘Howl’: ‘I thought
I wouldn’t write a poem but just write what I wanted to without fear, let
my imagination go, open secret, and scribble m:igic lines from my real
mind (Allen and Tallman,1973:318). Nevertheless, what I am concerned
with here is a practice that is not confined to wiiters who could be
described as improvisational, but which is fundamental to the way in
which other writers also may work. Many writeis discuss writing in terms
of not knowing exactly where the writing is heading and this is not .
confined to poetry. Balzac, for example, was famously so moved by the
death of one of his characters while he was wriring that he opened his
window and shouted, ‘Le Pkre Goriot est mort! Le Pkre Goriot est mort!’
(Plimpton, 1986: 259).2Edna O’Brien describes writing as ‘like
sleepwalking; I don’t know exactly where I am going but I know I will
get there’ (Plimpton, 1986: 260). Writers who describe their practice as

‘I have discussed elsewhere the appropriateness of the musical term ’improvisation‘ t o

the practice of writing (Yates, 2006: 33-36).
ZThisis not t o suggest that Balzac is necessarily anticipating automatic writing as
practised by the surrealists; rather, the practice of automatic writing and free writing
are exercises which make use of a way of working which extends beyond the
influence of surrealism. Practised as exercises, however, the techniques are useful
ways for writers t o tap into a mode of working which is particularly productive for
reasons that I discuss here.

8 Eng.!sh in Education Vo1.41 No.3 2007

 Cliff Yates

more deliberate also acknowledge the importance of allowing for the

unplanned. John Barth, for example, says of a significant moment in his
novel, Sabbatical: ’Early in the planning...I knew that...something
extraordinary had to happen, something literally marvellous, but I had no
idea what that ought to be until they actually did turn that corner’
(Plimpton, 1986: 235). Further, it is difficult to imagine a work more
shaped and apparently deliberate than, say, Of Mice and Men, but in fact
John Steinbeck gi\ es this advice to writers: ‘Write freely and as rapidly as
possible and throw the whole thing on paper’ (Plimpton, 1977: 185).

Free writing, as I Ltm describing it here, is a way of creating the

conditions for the experience of writing which is referred to by the
writers I have quoted. Ted Hughes notes the signrficance and potential of
improvisatory writing in the classroom in Poetry in the Making, describing
the process of ‘concentrated improvisation...to develop the habit of all-
out flowing exertion, for a short, concentrated period, in a definite
direction’ (Hughes. 1967: 23). Hughes suggests setting strict limits: one
side of writing in :ibout 10 minutes (in practice, I would not require one
side of writing, which could be difficult for some pupils; the time
pressure is enough):

mese artijkial limits create a crisis, which ruses the brain’s

resources; the compulsion towards haste overthrows the
ordina y prxautions, flings everything into top gear, and many
things that fire usually hidden find themselves rushed into the
open. Barrim break down, prisoners come out of their cells.
(Hughes, 1967: 23).

Hughes’ highly dramatic, figurative language suggests the liberating effect

of this kind of wri-ing, the way in which it allows for writers to produce
work which they have not anticipated.

The practice of free writing as an exercise derives from the surrealist

‘automatic writing‘ described by Andre Breton as ‘a monologue spoken as
rapidly as possible without any intervention on the part of the critical
faculties, a monologue consequently unencumbered by the slightest
inhibition and whish was, as closely as possible, akin to “spoken
thoughf” (Rothenberg and Joris, 1995: 466). Speed is seen by the
surrealists as essectial as a way of absorbing and focusing the mind in
such a way as to overtake the everyday noise of thought, particularly the
tendency to criticise and judge the work before it has found its way onto
the page; to neutrilise, as Breton says, the ‘critical faculties [andl
inhibition[sl’,an idea which anticipates Hughes’ idea of a method which
‘overthrows the ortdinary precautions’ (Rothenberg and Joris, 1995: 466;
Hughes, 1967: 23)

0 Nate and Contributcrs 2007 9

Writing like miters: bee witina and formal consfmini

Notwithstanding the common ground between automatic writing and free

writing, it is important to state the differences. In this, I am in agreement
with John Ashbery who says: ‘I don’t believe in ziutomatic writing as the
surrealists were supposed to have practised it, simply because it is not a
reflection of the whole mind, which is partly 1og:cal and reasonable, and
that part should have its say too’ (Plimpton, 1986: 197). This concurs with
my own practice and the way in which free writlng is used in writing
workshops: there is no reason why free writing should not accommodate
language that is ‘logical and reasonable’ in spite af its capacity to short-
circuit the ‘critical faculties’ (Plimpton, 1988: 197: Rothenberg and Joris,
1995: 466). Another difference between automatic writing and free
writing, as I am referring to it here, is that the larter involves an
emphasis, not on speed, but on writing without .‘-toppingfor a defined
period of time.

Writing without stopping is in fact the first ‘rule‘of free writing that Peter
Sansom recommends in Writing Poems (Sansom. 1994: 68-69>.(That ’free’
writing should take place according to certain niles, incidentally, is a
paradox worthy of poetry teaching which is coniounded by such
paradoxes, e.g. the necessity of saying a great dcal in a few lines.) The
time limit is important; between five and ten minutes is most effective.
Ten minutes of writing sounds a long time to some students, whereas
five sounds more achievable. A longer time can be seen as more
intimidating; after all, no one can write a poem n only five minutes. In
fact, it is surprising how students actually do write a first draft in five
minutes. The time limit, in fact, is a way of applbring pressure and
removing anxiety, which is the basis of all these ‘rules’.The second rule
is not to think, but to allow the writing to go in the way it chooses; this
is a way of discouraging the student from critici.ing the work during the
process of writing. The third rule is not to rhyme because this slows
down the writing (and can lead to writing where the student uses a word
simply because it happens to rhyme). There are two additional rules. The
first of these is not to write to the edge of the pdge but to write in lines;
I return to this point be1ow.j The final rule is not to worry because, after
all, this is just a warm up exercise and no one ib expecting a complete
poem. Sharing this assumption is another way of removing anxiety.

Removing anxiety in itself is a primary argument in favour of the techruque

of free writing. For students normally reluctant tc write, free writing is
useful as a means of overcoming this reluctance: it is over quickly, and
they can write anything they lke. (It is importanr that students are
reassured that they will not be required to read back, incidentally: they

’When students are more experiencedwith free writing, I suggest writing in lines and
stanzas. (For the sake of avoiding confusion, I do not distinguish between stanzas
and verse paragraphs when working with students in the classroom.)

10 Engtsh in Education Vo1.41 No.3 2007

 Cliff Yates

should write what is important to them, not what they will feel safe with if
they are forced to read aloud what they have written.) For motivated and
able students, free writing provides freedom from the pressure to ‘get it
right’; successful students can all too easily be the ones who are adept at
producing work that will please the teacher. What we want, surely, is for
students to write about what is important to them.

Jumpstartingthe poem
To jumpstart free writing, it is common to provide an opening line or
phrase. This is particularly useful, given that a common problem with
students is often not knowing how to begin a piece of writing. Useful
openings, for example, are ‘I shouldn’t say this but’, ‘Just at that moment’
and ’This time last year’. One that works particularly well is ‘I remember’
which originated with the artist Joe Brainard, whose autobiographical
book length poem I remember, originally published in 1970, consists of
hundreds of brief entries, each beginning with that phrase (Brainard,
2001). ‘I remember’ can be used as a structuring device as Brainard uses
it; if the student mns out of material, they can simply repeat ‘I remember’
and continue with another memory, as the following poem demonstrates:

IN A RUSH

I remember discovering the burring smells of summer,

Dust gathering in illuminated shafts
Though the gaps in the morning curtains.

I remember,falling through clouds and

Moist, d e q pansies. Rolls of dry grass
Grazing mj, knees and staining my elbows, the

Tps tingling the tops of my fingers as

I lay back iiito the worn hammock, head over the edge
So gravity rtwersed and Igotpulled from the blue blanket of sky.

I remember vou and I, balancing on the pond

Bricks, uncontrollably spluttering out strawberry-tasting giggles
As Uncle Stwe scooped us up before we fell in to

Swim with tne fish and breathe under water

Like magic.

I remember m e time you did fall, claiming that

I n our bunk bed every night
You prayed co hard to become a mermaid
That surely now you would have the power to
ty

Transform cind grow a willowy tail.

0 N a t e and Contributors 2007 11

Writinalike writers: free writina and form& conslra'nl

I remember waiting for you

To rise triumphantly from the distorted, su aying weeds,
Out of the tinged dirt glint
And shatter the unusually calm surface.

Agnes Lambert, 15yrs

This poem illustrates how free writing can work the poem seems to
build up to the ending; it is as if the first part of the poem is there to
provide the context for this story, as if the writer discovers what she
wants to write about during the course of the witing.

Drafting and form

The following poem, originally written as a piece of free writing in
response to a Childline competition in which shidents had to write on
the themes of hope and trust, draws attention to the act of writing in its
use of the word 'edit'. Drawing attention to the x t of writing, as I have
argue d elsewhere, is an indication of improvisaiion insofar as it suggests
that the writer is responding to process, to the time of composition
(Yates, 2006).

TERROSIT (Edit 3)

Trust,
Terrosit group,
Began
(estimate) 1892.

Due to a 0%activity rating

we suspect rival
terrosit hope was born.

Little is known of
hope.

But we suspect (Editj

we know

they are most

active when
trust
has
a n activity rating
of below 10%.

William Kerky, Ibyrs (Yates, 2001: 54)

12 Enghh in EducationVo1.41No.3 2007

 Cliff Yates

The use of ’edit’in parenthesis is particularly effective in context: as well

as suggesting that the writer is editing and modifying the poem during
the writing (it could refer specifically to the neologism ‘terrosit’,as if
saying it is an edited version of terrorist, for example) it has sinister
overtones, suggesting self-conscious censorshp and, therefore, lack of
‘trust’.According to William, ‘Edit 3’ is a reference to the fact that he was
working on the third draft of the poem. In effect, then, he was
improvising, being open to the moment of writing, at the stage of
drafting. By open to the moment of writing I mean responsive to the
process, so that, as I have argued, what happens at the time of writing,
for example what thoughts occur to the writer and what happens in the
environment, affects the writing. T h s responsiveness to the time of
composition, I take it, is what Bailey is alluding to, in his definition of
improvisation as ‘the celebration of the moment’, quoted above (Bailey,
1980: 151). William Kerley’s inclusion of the term ‘Edit’,then, can be seen
as evidence that he is acknowledging, or responding to, the process of
editing during the act of drafting, that he is improvising (Kerley in Yates,
2001: 54).

Interestingly, John Ashbery expresses reservations about automatic

writing as practised by the Surrealists with reference to drafting: ‘Isn’t all
writing automatic? If one corrects a poem after writing it, doesn’t one
happen automatically on the correction?’(Ashbery, 2004: 20). The answer
to both questions, as Ashbery implies, is ‘yes’.This has implications for
writing in the classroom. One of the most recurring questions that I am
asked by teachers is how to get students to draft. It is as if drafting is a
chore, something 5tudents do not see the point of, a process that is
carried out on work which students consider to be already completed.
Drafting, though, as Ashbery suggests, is a creative act, and essentially is
no different from writing a first draft. Robert Duncan has the same view:
‘My revisions are my new works, each poem a revision of what has gone
before. In-sight. Re-vision’ (Allen and Tallman, 1973: 400-401).
Hyphenating the word revision makes the point that it is an act of
revisiting the stimulus for the poem and as such should contain the
excitement that Wis there during the initial act of writing.

One of the great advantages of writing poems in the classroom is that

poems are usually short, so re-writing is less arduous for students
normally unwilling to revise their work. I advocate a light touch, using
‘excuses‘for drafting, such as typing up to make a fair copy. This is
particularly valuable in providing the opportunity to demonstrate, on the
computer screen, .he creative possibilities of revision, for example of
altering line breaks.

0 N a t e and Contributors 2007 13

Writing like writers: freewriting m d formal constraint

Line breaks and stanza breaks

In discussing the rules of free writing, I mentioned the importance of
writing in lines. This practice brings to the students‘ attention the
essential relationship between form and content. Essentially, the
discipline of writing in lines acts as a constraint Having the student write
in lines at the stage of free writing provides a necessary tension between
giving content permission to go in any direction and at the same time
introducing the notion of formal pressure. The most fruitful way of
teaching form to students, of course, is by using poems by established
writers to demonstrate the possibilities that the!- suggest.

After a period of free writing, I tend to work w:th poems by established

poets used as stimulus for further work, indicating specific aspects of the
poem for the students to think about as writers The italics are important.
This notion of reading as a writer is fundament-d: it helps students
develop as writers by allowing them to interrogate literature in terms of
their own practice, to examine the ways in which it is successful (or
unsuccessful: it is extremely heartening to students to see that not all
published poetry ‘gets it right’). Reading as a m riter also develops
students’ confidence as readers of poetry. Published poetry is not
something ‘precious’or alien, it is the outcome of a practice in which the
students are engaged.

One of the earliest poems I teach with a new class is William Carlos
Williams’ ‘This is Just to Say’ (Williams, 2000: 372). This poem is
particularly successful because it makes writing accessible, demonstrating
how the language of a note can be accommodxed into a poem. Another
poem I use early on, that is equally effective, is Frank O’Hara’s ‘Les
Etiquettes Jaunes’ which demonstrates how to write a poem addressing
something from the natural world (O‘Hara, 1 9 5 : 21).’ After reading the
Williams poem, students write a ‘sorry’ poem, real’ or fictive, addressed
to a particular person or group of people, and after reading the O’Hara
poem, students write a poem addressing a living thing. At some point, I
will spend a few minutes discussing with students the ways in which the
writers use line breaks. Williams, for example. uses lines to delineate
units of meaning; each line ends where the speaker would pause. In the
O’Hara poem, on the other hand, line breaks effectively interrupt syntax
and provide a surprising new emphasis as in: As if there was no / such
thing as integrity’ where, in suggesting a pause where there would not
normally be a pause if the lines were spoken. O’Hara adds to the mock-
seriousness of the piece (O’Hara, 1995: 21).

4Kenneth Koch advocates using the poems by O’Hara and Williams that I refer t o here
in Rose, Where Did You Get That Red? (Koch, 1973).

14 Eralish in Education Vo1.41 No.3 2007

 Cliff Yates

Another useful exurcise which also teaches the potential of line breaks
and stanza breaks is to give the students copies of a poem which has
been typed up as 3 piece of prose, and get them, working in small
groups, to put in the line and stanza breaks. There are no marks for
getting this ‘right’.The important thing is for students to take ownership
and be able to discuss why they prefer certain line breaks to others. Brief
sessions like this bring to light the possibilities of line breaks and equip
students to make the choices they need to make when they write.

The most useful experience a student can have, however, in learning

about form, is that of typing up their work and then trying out different
line and stanza breaks, to see the difference it makes to the poem. This
experience demonstrates to the student the repertoire of possibi1ities.j
The freedom to experiment with line breaks like this on the computer
screen is, I believe, the greatest gift of technology to the teacher working
with students writing poetry.

Wdliam Kerley’s poem illustrates the way in which the approach I have
described has equipped h m to make hghly individual choices about
where to break the lines. The line breaks counterpoint the rhythm of the
syntax, providing ;I sense of awkwardness, for example, in breakmg the
line after the connectives ‘of and ‘when’,effectively highlighting the
tension between the official-sounding tone and the element of the sinister
conveyed by the undercurrent of fear. In other words, the form of the
poem matches the content. William, in fact, may not have described the
effect of the poem in these terms; it is notoriously difficult for a writer to
interpret their owr work, as Robert Sheppard has argued (Sheppard, 2002:
13-14). To say all this is not to invalidate William Kerley’s achievement or
imply that the decisions he made about form were not deliberate or
conscious: ‘TERROST ( E l t 3)‘ demonstrates an undeniable confidence in
its apparently anarchic use of form to acheve a particular effect.

The following poem also makes use of a distinctive form:

EYE LESSER-SPOTDD IEUOWA.hKLE-BIlER

Sitting
pancaked aqainst the ground
waits

like a mine
teeth bared
gurgling

5pace does not allow me t o discuss the use of established forms here. I have dealt
with this issue in Jumpstart Poetry in the Secondary School (Yates, 1999).

0 Nate and Contributors 2007 15

Writing like writers: freeWriting and formal constraint

An eye darts
from side to side
nervously

Munch!

Michael TaJ~ler,13yrs (Yates, 2001: 19)

The short lines effectively heighten the dramatic nature of the account.
The last one-line stanza, after the use of the three triplets, accentuates
the sudden drama and surprise of the meaning and also creates a
sense of immediacy. The following poem is more leisurely, befitting its
subject:

TOAD

I grithe through pondwater,

my amphibian crawl
playing on people’sfeelings;
people who dislike me.

I have no warts.
Whatyou see
is the overflow of my feelings,
popping through my skin.

Have empathy for my

rough body, grobblyfeet.

My eyes are friendly; cold like trees,

as I crawl to the pond’s edge,
my feet at cross-pulposes
to plosh
with a blink
into the stringy water.

Ruth Yltes, 13yrs (Yates, 2001: 46)

‘Toad’was written in response to Edwin Morg,n’s ‘Hyena’.The task was

to write a poem from the point of view of an .inimal that is normally
considered unsympathetic. It could be argued -hat this task is not, strictly
speaking, free writing, because it is so directec . However, the poem
demonstrates how experience of free writing can lead to the ability to
write a complete poem in a short time. I asketi the students to decide on
an animal before reading ‘Hyena‘.We read Morgan’s poem, discussed it
for about ten minutes (we discussed it at more length after the students

16 English in EducationVo1.41No.3 2007

 Cliff Yates

had written their poems) then I asked the students to write about their
animal. This is Ruth Yates’ first draft:

I grithe in the pondwater

but asyou t a n see
people dislike me
have not empathy for
my amphibzan crawl,
my rough-skinned body, grobbly feet
I have no uarts
m a t you see is the overflow of my feelings
popping through my skin
and my eye.<are friendly
even when iny feet are at
crosspuqoses and I fall with
a plash into the stringy murk of
broken ice

It is interesting how much of the final poem is contained in this first

draft. The most strilung difference between the two poems is in the form:
the final version uses stanzas as verse paragraphs, each one a sentence
long. The surprise is in the last stanza, where the sudden use of short
lines accentuates tile suddenness of the jump. Comparing the ending of
the final version with the last (third) handwritten draft is revealing:

Except whei?I crawl to thepond’s

edge, my f e d at cross
purposes, to plash, into
the stringy water

The most obvious changes made for the final draft are to the choice of
words: ‘plash’becomes ‘plosh’and .with a blink is added. Changes to
the line breaks art- particularly significant, especially in the third version,
where line breaks interrupt the flow of the syntax, in ‘pond’s/ edge’ and
‘cross / purposes’ as if to accentuate the toad’s hestitancy and
awkwardness. The final draft, however, abandons this approach, leaves
the words to take care of themselves, and uses the line breaks more
successfully to accentuate the suddenness of the jump, so that ‘with a
blink’ could refer ro the observer or to the toad itself. The line ‘with a
blink‘ also creates a pause between the two lines it interrupts; it enacts
the time it takes for the toad to ht the water. It can be seen that a
comparison between the final draft and the earlier drafts illustrates how
drafting can invigorate a poem and add to its freshness.

0 N a t e and Contributors 2007 17

Writina like writers: free writinu cmd formal constraint

Conclusion
It is important that we provide students with ways of working derived
from established writers, including the techniques used in writers’
workshops, so that they are equipped to write JS well as they are able.
Free writing is not only a successful writing method used by established
writers, it is also a technique which provides the pressure of a challenge
without anxiety. The students’ poems that I ha\-e discussed in this paper
illustrate the potential of free writing and the m ay in which students can
gain a degree of authority, as writers, by the careful use of form, with
specific reference to line breaks. The fact that all these poems were
written as improvisations, and revised in the same spirit, illustrates the
way in whch students can utilise the practices of established writers,
combining techniques of improvisation and formal constraint in order to
produce successful poems.

References
Allen, D. and Tallman, W. (eds) (1973) m e Poetics of the New American
Poety. New York: Grove Press.
Ashbery, J. (2004) Selected Prose. Manchester: Carcanet.
Bailey, D. (1980) Improvisation: Its Nature and Practice in Music.
Ashbourne, Derbyshire: Moorland Publishing in association with Incus
Books.
Brainard, J. (2001) I Remember. New York: Granary Books.
Cage, J. (1961) Silence 2nd British edition (198’) London: Marion Boyars.
Goldberg, N. (1986) Writing Down the Bones: Freeing the Writer Within.
Boston, Shambhala Publications.
Hughes, T. (1967) Poety in the Making: A n Aiithology of Poems and
Programmes f r o m Listening and Writing. London: Faber and Faber.
Koch, K. (1973) Rose, Where Did You Get m a t Red? Teaching Great
Poety to Children. New York: Vintage Books.
O’Hara, F. (1971) Art Chronicles 1956-1966,2nd edition. New York:
George Braziller.
O’Hara, F. (1995) m e Collected Poems of Frank O’Hara, Allen, D. (ed.)
2nd edition. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press.
Plimpton, G. (ed.) (1977) Writers at Work: m e Paris Review Interviews,
Fourth Series. New York: Penguin.
Plimpton, G. (ed.) (1986) Writers at Work: me Paris Review Interviews,
Seventh Series. New York: Penguin.
Rothenberg, J. and Joris, P. (1995) Poems f o r the Millennium Volume One:
From Fin de SiZcle to Negritude. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of
California Press.
Sansom, P. (1994) Writing Poems. Newcastle: Hloodaxe Books.
Sheppard, R. (2002) me Necessit?/ of Poetics. Liverpool: Ship of Fools.
Williams, W. C. (2000) Collected Poems 1: 1909-19.39, Litz A. W. and
MacGowan, C. (eds). Manchester: Carcanet.

18 Erglish in Education Vo1.41 No.3 2007

 Cliff Yates

Yates, C. (1999) Jzimpstart Poety in the Seconday School, 2nd edition

2004. London: Poctry Society.
Yates, C. (2001) Oi-anges: Poems from Maharishi School. Ormskirk:
Maharishl School Press.
Yates, C. (2006) The Poem as Process: me0y and Practice. Unpublished
PhD thesis: Edge Hill University (University of Lancaster).

I would like to thank A g n s Lambert, William Kerky, Michael Tayler and

Ruth Yates who kiiidly grantedpermission for reproduction of theirpoems.

0 Nate a n d Contributcrs 2007 19