5 Minute Poem

I was blessed with attending Dr Martin Shaw’s- Rebel Soul’s Mythic Storytelling Course, where he introduced me (and a room full of others) to a gift of an exercise known as the 5 minute poem.

Poetry: The Language of the Soul

Linear language is a relatively recent addition in terms of human evolution. Due to its structured, fixed, and reductionistic labeling, it can sometimes prove a rather limited tool when it comes to facilitating authentic communication across our vast, intricate internal systems.

Consider how some cultures have numerous terms to describe variations of snow or love, reflecting the depth and nuance of their experiences. This linguistic richness underscores the limitations of linear language in capturing the full spectrum of human emotion.

This, for me, is where the magic of poetry comes in.

Done right (and I don’t mean limited to rhymes and beats), poetry has the capacity to sweep through one’s soul with its giant net of meaning. Gathering the unclaimed thoughts and feelings that your multiverse is desperately seeking to bring to your awareness for your conscious feasting. Manifesting meaning in a way that holds the weight of the ocean within just a few metaphorical sentences.

What I love about five-minute poetry is that it encourages the individual to restrain their chattering mind, choosing instead to trust their intuition to flow through whatever needs to be heard, whatever wants to be witnessed, and allowing a voice to what is—your own divine magnificence.

It’s an invitation to connect. To encourage the more hidden aspects of yourself to step up and into the light of your awareness. An opportunity to begin courting a more intimate relationship with the whole that is one’s truest self.

Try It for Yourself

Put five minutes on the clock.

And just write.

Don’t think, don’t analyze, don’t make it rhyme or bring the grade-school teacher to the table, casting reductionistic, limiting judgments upon your fledgling spirit.

Take a leap of faith with me and jump.

Write.

Then, read it back to yourself out loud.

Hear your intimate truths rolling across your own tongue. Witness yourself.

Then, fold up your work and place it under your pillow. Dream alongside your subconscious world and notice what arises.

Notice the metaphorical language that begins reaching all around you.

• What tone do your words take?

• What are you feeling as you read the words allowed?

• What theme can you hear?

• What images are you conjuring?

This is your metaphorical world seeking your attention.

Waking up and becoming curious

Court yourself home and discover the map that will unlock your deepest, most wonderful, most magical, authentic self.

Go Deeper: Writing Prompts

If you’re unsure where to start, here are a few prompts to guide you:

• Write about the first thing that pops into your head. Don’t think about it- unfold with it.

• Read allowed a couple of poem’s that you’ feel drawn to or inspired by.

• Explore a memory that has stayed with you over the years.

After reading your poem aloud and reflecting on it, consider sharing it with a trusted friend or within a supportive group. Sharing can deepen your insights and inspire others on their own journeys of self-discovery.

Because this isn’t just about writing.

This is about witnessing yourself.

And when you surrender to this process, when you allow yourself to be written, you may find that what speaks through you is not just words—

but divinity itself.

This was my own attempt. I was trapped in hospital and was facing a tricky prognosis. This became a way for me to process something my fragile mind couldn’t quite comprehend.

Divinity is a Trickster

Divinity is a trickster.

A symphony always playing,

hidden in plain sight,

breathing amongst our wakeful silence.

A rolling, endless waterfall

washing o’er our senses.

The constant invitation—

to open,

to flood the gates,

to release

and surf these endless waves of feeling.

I have tasted divinity upon my tongue.

Felt fingers wrap a feathered cloak about my soul—

and oh,

how the shoulders heave for its knowing.

This sweet grief.

Each tear,

a diamond alighting my darkened sky,

each constellation

a map,

guiding this weary sailor home again.

Once more, I beg.

I hear my song.

The sirens sing it well.

I shall not clog my ears this time.

But welcome madness to this hearth,

to sup upon my finest vintage,

to relinquish tales of wildish bounty.

I am ready for the humbling.

Do not diminish me.

Do not distill me down

with broken tools and rusty, singular language.

For my alchemy has been forged,

invested—

and now,

I seek the true philosopher’s stone.

I submit.

And hope that, in my undoing,

I gain fluency o’er its crystal words.

To glimpse shadows infinite,

to whimper gratitude into flame.

These foolish bones

I cast to dust.

I am longing for a gentler breeze

to reclaim these dancing flecks,

and carry me back

into boundless nothingness.

With gratitude, I go.

There is no tomorrow.

Only endlessness,

and the glory of the now.

~ Katie McGerther

If you fancy exploring a little more about Dr Martin Shaw’s work: https://drmartinshaw.com/courses/summer-school/