The Seeker

A Meta-Cognitive Journal About Writing… Plus Other Stuff

Re-Verse pt. 2

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I’ve shelved the poem I was talking about last time.  Maybe “shelved’ isn’t the right word…  I’ve put it on the back burner.  It’s simmering.  I have good cause for this action, too.  I said there are actually two poems I’m working on, and the second one has come to the front of my mind.

“…has come to the front of my mind” isn’t even an accurate expression.  “Erupted” is what really happened; a volcano of thought.  It’s a good thing I’ve been hanging around with a bucket and was able to catch most of what spewed forth.  Hell, sometimes I think that’s half of what writing is all about:  Making sure you have your bucket ready.

I was in the computer lab Friday morning last week with my creative writing class when it happened.  I think it happened because of all the artistic vibes zig-zagging through the room and pinging off the walls.  Near the end of the period, the opening of the poem shot through my mind.  I grabbed my journal and spent about ten minutes scrawling as much of it as possible.  And I used Lux’s suggested approach from last time–I wrote and wrote and didn’t worry about anything but writing it down.  I didn’t worry about line breaks, I sure as hell didn’t worry about rhyme (it won’t be rhymed), and I didn’t even pay mind to symbols or metaphors.  I let things fall where they may.  I can arrange later.

I spent some more time on the poem Saturday, and then again today.  I’m mostly concerned with making it into the best prose I can right now.  I’ll worry about things like line breaks and stanzas later.  They’ll come, though line breaks to me are the most challenging part of free verse (stupid enjambment!).

I’m trying to keep this one “light” and not take it too seriously as far as content goes.  It’s a personal reflection about my state of existence right now; it’s not a confessional, I’m not brooding, and I’m not emotional.  It’s more of an ironic observation, and I’m working especially hard on a solid punchline at the end.  But it is primarily about me, and all too many poets have gone wrong by taking themselves too seriously.  Who wants to read something crammed with angst and insecurity, something that is little more than a clumsy hack lamenting how sad and dark life is?  Not me.  I don’t even want to write something like that.  So I might as well have fun with it now before I try to fully shape it.  That’s when the work becomes a real bitch.

Also, who knows–maybe the wake of this poem will be strong enough to pull along the other poem that’s simmering right now; the one about looking at the sun.


Written by seeker70

September 29, 2010 at 9:33 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

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