I see.
It’s a phrase most of us use frequently, and it has nothing to do with eyesight. What other common ways do we explore and play with sense in our writing?
This month, instead of delving into a new poetry form, we’re going to dial it back a notch (see?) (wait, was that two examples?) and focus on a technique you can use in your poetry no matter what your favorite form is. It’s a fun one, and one you might want to carry forward to your fiction and nonfiction writing as well, because it can really make a reader pay attention, or include them in the process of description in unique ways. It’s called synesthesia, and to use it you’ll break down the barriers between senses.
What is synesthesia?
Synesthesia is “a perceptual phenomenon in which stimulation of one sensory or cognitive pathway leads to automatic, involuntary experiences in a second sensory or cognitive pathway.” That’s a lot of words to say “you might hear color or see flavors.”
In a poetic sense, synesthesia is using words that ordinarily would relate to one sense (or more) to describe an impression or experience from another sense. It’s a little bit more than a metaphor, but a little bit less than personification.
Look, I know I usually write a whole novella for y’all on forms and techniques, but synesthesia really is that simple. So let’s take a look at some examples, then at some of the ways it manifests in poetry. Last, I’ll talk real fast about how to use it effectively in your work before turning you loose.
Quick examples:
- She smelled green.
- What does this mean to you? Do you associate green with a scent? Does it mean grassy, or medicinal? This phrase brings the reader’s experiences to the forefront.
- He looked like smooth jazz, you know, the kind with a xylophone.
- What images do you associate with jazz? Is this a positive or a negative judgment? Does there need to be more?
- I tasted spring.
- What flavor is this? Do you have a specific memory of a spring dish?
- Her scream was sunlight.
- Is sunlight loud? Does this apply to brightness or heat? How could this be contrasted with the rest of the poem, and what metaphor could you build to support it?
Long examples:
(I’m going to put the synesthetic line in boldface for your convenience, but that’s not in the original poem)
Example: The Divine Comedy
And such as he is, who is glad to gain,
and who, when times arrive that make him lose,
weeps and is saddened in his every thought;
such did that peaceless animal make me,
which, ’gainst me coming, pushed me, step by step,
back to the place where silent is the sun.
Example: Ode to a Nightingale
Example: I heard a Fly buzz -
I willed my Keepsakes – Signed away
What portions of me be
Assignable – and then it was
There interposed a Fly –
With Blue – uncertain stumbling Buzz –
Between the light – and me –
And then the Windows failed – and then
I could not see to see –
How do I use synesthesia in my writing?
Sparingly. Did you see the “read the full poem here” links for each example? These are not short poems (ok, the Dickinson one is pretty short) but there are only one or two examples of synesthesia in them. Unless you are going all-out with synesthesia – which is a thing you can do! – use it very very sparingly. Watch how those shifted sense impressions pack more information into the words than a straight description would, and use them to fill in spaces where you don’t have room (or need a rhyme, or have to shorten a line for meter) to give a full precise description.
Although if you’re writing poetry you should probably be using techniques like this more often than a plain description anyway: metaphor, unexpected juxtaposition, and synesthesia can give short poems big meaning, and keep long ones from feeling like a story with no plot where you overused the enter key.
So what are the rules for this month’s slam? Why did I read all that?
To participate in this month’s poetry slam, write a poem in any form you want (scroll back through our writing help section to find forms if you’re short on inspiration – the December posts often collect the year’s favorites) incorporating synesthesia. You don’t have to bold the line; I just did that for your convenience. I hope you enjoy exploring your senses this month!
About the author:
Rowan submitted exactly one piece of microfiction to YeahWrite before being consumed by the editorial darkside. She spent some time working hard as our Submissions Editor before becoming YeahWrite’s Managing Editor in 2016. She was a BlogHer Voice of the Year in 2017 for her work on intersectional feminism, but she suggests you find and follow WOC instead. In real life she’s been at various times an attorney, aerialist, professional knitter, artist, graphic designer (yes, they’re different things), editor, secretary, tailor, and martial artist. It bothers her vaguely that the preceding list isn’t alphabetized, but the Oxford comma makes up for it. She lives in Portlandia with a menagerie which includes at least one other human. She tells lies at textwall and uncomfortable truths at CrossKnit.
