“You can make anything by writing.” ― C.S. Lewis

Posts for poetry

the fear in living [poetry]

Poetry - Emily - October 15, 2015

It’s been a while since I’ve been so firmly entrenched in poetry. Poetry is, to me, a way of life. Back at school, I ate, slept, breathed poetry — at one point, more than any other thing, more than dance, more than German, more than partying and the Women’s Center — I bled poems. I saw a squirrel darting across the grass and there was a poem. I had a bad dream and there was another, I had a bad day and there were ten.

Coming back down, as I call it, to the real world — it robbed the poetry from me, for a time. I tried so desperately hard to keep it in my life — reading and writing it on my lunch breaks until too many people came by and made a sort of surprised face and asked, are you…writing poetry? I admit, I quaked under their lack of understanding, their (kind-hearted) bewilderment. I was young, I was 22, 23, I wasn’t strong enough in who I was yet.

So, lately, I’ve really, really been trying to work on focusing on poetry. I’ve started to read more of it, every day, if I can manage it. I get poetry.org’s Poem of the Day, and while I may not read it first thing in the morning, or occasionally save up 3-4 until I have time to savor them — that was a start. I carry around Wendell Berry and heave out my collected works of Louise Glück at least a few times a month. It’s a start, and I’ve scribbled, here and there, a few lines. Not full poems, but little scraps that want to become poems.

I had a moment of clarity, earlier last week, and a full poem burst forth from me. I’ve learned I have to just go, I have to just follow, when the poetry muse offers me a poem. If I hesitate, it is lost.

This is not the best poem I’ve ever written. I’m not even convinced it’s a good one. 

But it’s a start — and I’ll take that.

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Life Blog: Sunday.

I love days where you get to do all the things you want to do.

Each and every day is eaten up by so much have to. Have to get out of bed. Have to go to work. Have to pay attention at work all day, have to be polite and friendly and efficient. Have to repress the urge to actually maim all the people you swear under your breath you’ll maim as you check out at Wal-mart/get stuck in traffic/try and fix a paper jam on the office printer.

And even beyond the obligations, there’s so much compromise. Where to meet friends for supper, and how long to stay out. What to watch on the TV as you lounge on the couch with your husband/girlfriend/roommate/mother.

The best days are the days where you get to do absolutely whatever it is you want to do. The lovely little things, sometimes just the quiet things — things we can’t always make time for, in the hustle and the bustle of the day to day, the obligations, the have to. The things that actually make us saner and nicer and more patient and rested, but aren’t technically seen as necessary, so they’re the first things to be dropped, when life starts to get hectic.

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