Make poems out of them.
I have a list of story ideas that don’t make sense or, more truthfully, I don’t want to write the background necessary for them to make sense. So I’ll turn them into poems when I can’t sleep at night. Sometime in the dim light of today’s early morning, I wrote a poem about exploding glass jars, mason or otherwise.
It doesn’t rhyme.
Rhyming poetry may be passé but there’s always something soothing about reading A.A. Milne. My goal is to get my poems to rhyme. Then I can be both a struggling author and a struggling poet so I’ll have more to talk to people about at potlucks and parties.