My Struggle with Poetry

 I have always struggled with poetry. I understand that the words are chosen specifically to get a point across, and that people have been crafting meaningful messages with poetry over the centuries. I respect it, I just don’t grasp it, therefore making it hard to enjoy. The funny thing is that I have tried and tried over the years to immerse myself in poetry and have yet to succeed. When I read poetry, the message goes over my head or does not hold the same meaning as the poet intends. I have read critiques and dissections of poetry, and I often find myself scratching my head, wondering how they got to that conclusion, or why the poet chose to go in the direction that they did.

I can see where some people might feel the same way about art. You might look at a painting and wonder “what the heck was the artist thinking?” or “what were they trying to convey?” and “is there a hidden message or purpose?” I get that; I can look at a painting and see the dramatic emotion. Although I cannot say that I understand all art (that would be absurd), I can say that it speaks a language that my mind can interpret. Poetry on the other hand…I have to focus and try really hard. 

I am constantly trying to stretch my creative abilities. I think about my skills as if they were muscles, training in a gym and getting buff. As I mentioned, I have tried to understand poetry - I sometimes beat myself up about my inability to comprehend a poem. I have tried reading as well as writing and have found that it is easier for me to write a poem than to read one. Knowing that my poem is just for me, and no one else, makes it easier for me. I’m not trying to write a manual or a recipe, I can use an allusion that makes sense only to me. I am the only one who needs to understand it.

Just like with painting or other forms of art, most of the time, the starting off point is the place where people get stuck when it comes to creating. That first stroke of the paintbrush, or finding the subject matter of interest to photograph can be the one thing holding someone back from creating a masterpiece. I was lucky that in the month of March, there was a poetry prompt for my One Little Word® project with Ali Edwards that I have been working on. If you are not familiar with that, I encourage you to check out my previous posts and our podcast on the topic. I don’t want to give away the prompt as it is a class that you have to be subscribed to, but I think it would be ok to just give you an idea of the lesson. 

The lesson for the month is to have a conversation with your word of the year. This activity anthropomorphized my word by giving it a human reaction. I sat down and answered the instructor’s writing prompts such as “how I am feeling”, and then in turn my word, RISE, responded back accordingly. It took a while for my word of the year to take shape, but once I was done I found that my responses were on one end of the emotional spectrum and my “word’s” responses were on the other end. I ended it up with a poem with two parts. The first part is set at a time of day when I - seem to struggle the most – the mornings. I express how I am impacted by my mental state. My word Rise picks up in the second part, sending me encouraging words to lift me up. I was really surprised that my melancholy response was answered by something so uplifting. 

RISE

I’m sitting, pondering my next move. 

Ideas roll around as to what I should do, 

Want to do, need to do, can’t do, afraid to do. 

My body aches, tired, overwhelmed and uninspired.

Physical pain manifests. 

The breaker switch blows a fuse. 

Nothing’s getting done now. 

Escape is necessary – fight or flight always becomes flight or flight. 

A light inside me is still glowing.

Burning warm enough to feel it, 

It does not scorch, 

It urges and guides my way. 

To flip the switch.  

The comforts of my inner hiding space no longer seen as a place of enjoyment, 

But a crutch, addiction, self imprisonment. 

For a short moment, I want them.

But I know that there is something better

Enlightened

Light from within

When I RISE.

I felt that my poem needed more than just words on paper. As I am custom to do with any of my journaling, I added collage and photography together to create something visual. I enjoyed exploring the words, getting to feel them deeply, and finding words that resonated with my emotions regarding my word. Being more present with my word allowed me to put truth to it, and choosing the right words helped me understand myself more. 

As for my next poetry plans, in light of my comparison to art, I thought it would be fun for me to take art work that I have seen in the past, and write a poem about them. I am excited to see where that takes me. I was thinking of the fur cup, Object by Méret Oppenheim, that drives me up the walls. Have you dabbled in poetry in any form? I would love to hear what you think!