Digging out the poem: © S. Ingraham, lightshedder.com

So, you have the idea of the outside and the inside down. You are generating some powerful images, building some effective metaphors, catching the connections between observation and reflection, between what you see and hear and do and what it means to you, but what you are writing either looks and reads like a paragraph from an essay or an exceptionally long run-on sentence. Where’s the poetry in that? Chances are, if you are willing to settle for free verse, it is already there. You have to build traditional metered verse from the first line up, one line at a time, one word at a time. Free verse, on the other hand, follows the rhythm of natural speech, builds on the patterns that form the bones of the language. There is probably already a free verse poem inside your paragraph or run-on sentence. You just have to dig it out. Try this:

Shorten the lines. Listen for the phrases, the natural pauses for breath or emphasis, and put one phrase, one breath’s-worth, on each line. Like this:

Shorten the lines.
Listen for the phrases,
the natural pauses for breath or emphasis,
and put one phrase,
one breaths-worth,
on each line.
Go back through and see what words you don’t need. The goal is to preserve the meaning using as few words as possible. Make the reader work. Make the reader supply the connections between thoughts. (This is the single greatest secret of poetry—I shouldn’t be telling you.) Like this:
Short lines
listen
phrases
natural pauses
breath, emphasis
one phrase
one breath’s-worth
per line
Look for words that can substitute for more than one word—that can do the work of more than one word*. In the last line above, I’ve already done that. “per” does the work of “on each.” “per” also extends the pattern of “p” sounds established by “phrases” and “pauses” in the lines above. As you look for substitutions, always be on the lookout for words that will build on the pattern of sound already in the poem.

Reread, keeping your mind loose, looking for alternative ways of saying the same thing that might build a stronger pattern of sound or extend the rhythm (or both). Looking at what I have already, the idea of pauses and the word “breath” come together to suggest the word “breaks”—as in “breath breaks.” I like the sound of that. I also want to do something with the word “emphasis” which is just kind of hanging out there. What comes to mind first is the image of a pointing finger—probably because “pointing” builds on the “p” pattern. I like discoveries like this.
Short lines
listen
phrases
natural pauses
breath breaks, pointing fingers
one phrase
one breath’s worth
per line

Back when I worked with a lot of "open field" techniques, I would also play with the placement of the lines on the paper to emphasize the rhythm of my reading. Also, by now we need a first line so that people know what I am talking about.
A poem can be
          short lines
                  listen
phrases
           natural pauses
breath breaks, pointing fingers
one phrase
         one breath’s worth
per line

Finally, I would go back to see how punctuation might add to the meaning, or clarify it, or make the rhythm of my speech stand out. While I am at it, I thought of a better first line, and a last line to frame the whole thing. We can even give it a title. Both the title and the last line suggest the idea of bones, digging for bones, and I like that as an image of what we have uncovered here—the bones of the language. I will work that in. Notice how I placed it between the two “breaths” to form a bridge of “b”s. Listen for pattern always. (Working to build a pattern has lead to at least two unexpected discoveries so far. That’s the second greatest secret of poetry—I shouldn’t be telling you.) Also, I am getting tired of the conventions of "open field" composition (I have a feeling that careful control of punctuation does the job as well and in a way that is easier for the average reader to understand), so I will realign the lines with the margin. I couldn't resist the temptation to expand on the "per line" and insert a weak rhyme.

Excavation

The poem in your paragraph will be
in short lines...

listen...

phrases, natural pauses,
breath breaks, pointing fingers,
just the bones
one phrase, one breath’s worth
at a time, in a line.

Dig it out!
Now, that is not a great poem, but it is a poem. Hopefully, you will have something more exciting to work with than my little paragraph. Dig. Excavate. You just might find a poem.

(You should note that this is not the way most poets write a poem. Once you get a sense of how to stick close to the bones of the language, you don’t have to dig most poems out—they are born right there on the surface. Still, I check for words I don’t need, look for single words to do the work of more than one, listen for rhythm and pattern and build them with my substitutions, my revisions, play with line placement and punctuation, and stay loose for discovery every time I write a poem.)

* Often you can find one word for an adjective noun pair, or for an adverb verb pair. It is almost always a good idea to substitute definite nouns and verbs for modified nouns and verbs. It is not a red bird, it is a Cardinal (or Purple Finch, or Scarlet Tanager). It is not a spotted dog, it is a Dalmatian or a boarder collie. He did not run fast, he sprinted (or lopped, or dashed, or streaked) He never runs very very fast—he blazes (he blasts, he vaporizes). On the other hand, it is not a green car—it is a sea-green, or apple-green, or grass-green, or pea-green car—and it is not a car at all, it is a Caravan, a 4-Runner, a Neon, a Grand AM, or a Jag (a ’97 Ford or ’32 Dodge at the very least).