Wednesday, November 16, 2016

On Poetry

When I was in high school, I used to write poems in physics class to keep myself awake. My eyelids feel heavy right now from the act of typing the word physics. The poems were always nonsensical, gravity-defying, a fight against the certainty of physics.

I have one more creative writing class to take before my master's degree is done (yay!) - and the only open class is poetry. This week, I'm taking a 2-day poetry workshop to see if I would like a 16 week class. To get in, I had to submit two poems. I had one that was solid. The rest were full of teen-angst. I haven't been a teen in a long while, so I decided use anything else. I typed out a long text message rant I had sent to my husband on a day when I had been pushed to the edge. (I did ask him first - he's the kind of guy that never minds.)

In the workshop, they compared the two poems, one I spent weeks on - the other about two minutes.

In the end, they hated my "good" poem and loved--LOVED--the text.

I'm left not knowing what to think.

Poetry, I do not love you so much anymore. I want the certainty I get from a well-composed story.

And I would give anything for a face-on-the-desk 30 minute nap right now.



  1. Glad yo are so close to your Masters!
    I'd say go for it. You tossed them one they really liked and you didn't have to agonize over it.
    Good to hear from you, Tonja.

  2. You are fast, Alex. I hope you got here after I corrected the typos. Note to self to wear the reading glasses when posting next time. I am close. My capstone is going to be a chunk of the historical novel I've been working on forever. I feel confident it will be done - totally done - ready to send to an agent done - by April.