Poetry Lesson #1: The Art of Writing Through Absence
- Nov 19, 2024
- 5 min read
Updated: Mar 16, 2025
Writing Through Absence: The Art of Crafting Poems of What Never Was
Poetry is often a response to what is, but what about what isn't? What about the lives we never lived, the love stories that never unfolded, the places that were imagined but never built? Writing Through Absence explores the power of crafting poetry about what never was—the unspoken, the unrealized, the roads left untraveled.
In this practice, we will experiment with poetic forms that breathe life into the nonexistent, from speculative "what if" narratives to elegies for the imagined. We'll navigate themes of lost possibilities, parallel realities, and the deep emotional weight of nostalgia for something that never came to be. Through exercises in surrealism, speculative storytelling, and lyrical lament, this practice invites you to transform absence into presence—making the unreal feel as vivid as memory itself.
Whether you're mourning a future that slipped away, envisioning an alternate past, or simply drawn to the mystery of the unformed, this practice will guide you in shaping what never was into something that is.
When This Approach in Poetry is Best Utilized
Poetry has long served as a vessel for capturing reality, but it is just as powerful in illuminating the spaces where reality never took shape. Writing about what never was allows poets to explore lost possibilities, alternate histories, and imagined emotions with the same depth and urgency as lived experiences. Whether reflecting on a life not chosen, mourning an unrealized dream, or conjuring a world that never came to be, these poems give voice to the intangible, making the absence of something feel as present as its existence.
Let's Get Started
Select one or more items from your list of imagined memories. Now, write a poem that focuses entirely on what didn’t happen, where you never went, or who you never met. Use a structure inspired by Andrew Waterhouse’s Not an Ending, layering a sequence of denials that hint at an unspoken emotional reality beneath the surface.
Start with an Impossible, Unbelievable Statement
Opening a poem with a statement that feels contradictory or impossible instantly captures the reader’s attention. It creates intrigue by suggesting that something is being hidden, reshaped, or reconsidered. This technique works because it prompts the audience to question what’s being denied—and more importantly, why.
The key is to introduce a line that feels emotionally or logically improbable, setting up a tension that invites deeper exploration. The statement can defy reality, memory, or even the laws of nature. The more impossible it seems, the more it suggests an untold story waiting to be uncovered.
Example: I never watched the sun set over the canyon’s edge or traced your name in the cold sandstone.
How to Craft a Compelling Contradiction:
Challenge Reality: State something that clearly cannot be true. Use sensory details that clash with what the reader knows to be real.
Example: I watched the river flow upward, carrying lost days into the sky.
Defy Memory: Deny something emotionally significant, even if its reality seems inevitable. This creates a powerful narrative tension.
Example: I never loved you, even when we danced through midnight storms.
Rewrite the Past: Suggest an alternate history, denying something foundational to the speaker’s experience.
Example: The war never happened; the streets stayed quiet, the flags never flew.
Subvert Nature or Time: Use surreal or mythic imagery that breaks natural laws, making the impossible seem tangible.
Example: The stars refused to rise that night. Darkness hummed in their place.
WHY IT WORKS:
Starting with an impossible or contradictory statement hooks the reader by creating a narrative mystery. It forces them to reconcile the dissonance between what is said and what seems true, sparking curiosity about the speaker’s deeper emotional reality. This tension sets the stage for a poetic journey where meaning is gradually revealed—or withheld—in compelling and unexpected ways.
Layer Denials with Vivid Details
Use sensory-rich descriptions of what didn’t happen. Include specific images, actions, or emotions that suggest the opposite might be true. This creates tension between what’s claimed and what’s implied.
EXAMPLE: I never heard your laugh echo across the river. There were no footprints in the sand, no skipped stones dancing across the water’s surface.
Play with Repetition
Repeating certain phrases, especially denials like “I never,” “You weren’t,” “It didn’t,” builds emotional intensity. As repetition accumulates, the reader senses the speaker's unresolved longing or hidden truth.
Example: You were not standing by the garden gate. You did not wait in the fading light. You did not turn back.
End with an Emotional Shift or Admission
Close your poem with a line that contradicts or softens earlier denials. This can imply acceptance, regret, or an acknowledgment of what the speaker is trying to forget or deny.
Example: I never missed you. I never searched for you in the wind. I never thought I saw you—but I still look, just in case.
Need Help Visualizing Your Poem? Check Out Our Example Below "What Never Was"
I never stood by the old lighthouse, watching the storm roll in. The wind didn’t carve salt into my skin, and the gulls didn’t scream overhead.
You were never beside me, humming that half-forgotten song. Your hand wasn’t warm in mine, your laugh didn’t vanish into the wind.
We never raced down the rocky shore, never counted waves until the tide stole the sand. I never tripped, you never caught me— we never fell, breathless and laughing.
I don’t miss the way you smiled then. I don’t wait for the ocean to return what it took.
But sometimes, when the wind howls just right, I hear your voice calling— though you were never there at all.
WHY THIS WORKS
Writing through absence allows you to explore memory, regret, and longing in a fresh and emotionally complex way. The act of denying something forces readers to imagine the very thing being denied, creating a poetic space filled with tension, mystery, and emotional depth. Try this approach to transform what never happened into something deeply felt—and impossible to forget.
Wrapping Up
Poetry has the unique power to give shape to what never was—to explore the unspoken, the unrealized, and the imagined with the same depth as lived experience. By writing through absence, you’ve stepped into a space where memory and possibility intertwine, where the weight of what could have been carries just as much meaning as what was.
As you reflect on your work, consider how this practice has challenged your perspective or opened new creative pathways. Did you mourn a road not taken, dream of an alternate past, or build a world that never came to be? However you approached it, your voice matters in shaping these unseen narratives.
We would love to hear what you’ve created! Feel free to share your poems in the comments and join the conversation. Let’s celebrate the art of crafting poetry from the spaces in between.




Living in Palm Springs, I’ve come to love the desert not just for its vastness but for the way it holds both silence and story in equal measure. The shifting dunes, the mirage of an oasis, the heat that shimmers on the horizon. This poem was born from that love, from the idea that the desert is more than what we see—it’s also what we imagine might be just beyond. Cheers, poets and friends!
And thank you for the practice!
Feedback is always appreciated.
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OASIS OF THE UNFOUND
There was a desert once - or maybe there wasn’t. No footprints ever pressed into its dunes, no caravans traced its golden ribs, yet I have wandered there, thirsting for something unnamed.
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"What the Wind Knows"
There was a house once—or maybe there wasn’t. Its bones were never laid, its windows never caught the morning sun, but I have walked its halls in the quiet of my mind.
A door that never swung open still creaks in my memory, hinges sighing under the weight of ghosts that were never born. The garden—a tangle of wild roses that no one planted, that no one watered, yet they bloom just the same.
Somewhere, a child I never held laughs like falling water, her shadow stretching long against walls that do not stand. She is barefoot on a floor that was never polished, pressing small hands against a window that sees nothing at all.
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