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Last night I had the first of three online poetry writing classes being offered through the Boston Public Library.
Perhaps it's all the technology-related blogging and documentation I have been writing lately, but I've felt the need to start writing poetry again.
Remember when you used to write poetry and songs just for fun, without thinking of it as something that required a lot of preparation and effort and, most of all, seriousness, just to begin? Or maybe you used to draw, or sing out loud, or play guitar, or whatever, just for fun? There's a phrase: "just for fun." For pleasure. For enjoyment. "Enjoyment" is what you get when you mix entertainment and joy.
And then, one day, you don't remember when, the invisible adult critic showed up, staring at you, judging, and the joy went out.
Okay, maybe that's just me, but I want to get back to the place before the invisible critic, and just write.
Then, while browsing the BPL's website a couple of nights ago, I found an online class titled "Just Writing," so I registered (it's a Zoom class).
IT WAS AMAZING! I didn't think I would be able to write anything, but we had free writing exercises and off I went.
I promise not to share my poetry with you, but I wanted to share just this first poem I wrote (don't worry, it's short).
The word we were given was "miss" and everyone else wrote about what they are missing during the pandemic, but that never even occurred to me. What hit me immediately was things I miss about being sighted, which I never allow myself to talk about, so sharing this with strangers was really jumping into the deep end.
I miss feeling brave.
I miss walking with nowhere to go.
I miss sunlight, the changing ocean, birds wings.
Most of all, I miss your face.
Words do, literally, have very different meanings for different people, and that's one of the main things that poetry plays with, so poets are word tricksters. I've been reading poetry by Albert Goldbarth and Billy Collins, because they *definitely* go for being word tricksters.
So this is me, encouraging you to find an online class in something you love doing and rediscover enjoyment.
Perhaps it's all the technology-related blogging and documentation I have been writing lately, but I've felt the need to start writing poetry again.
Remember when you used to write poetry and songs just for fun, without thinking of it as something that required a lot of preparation and effort and, most of all, seriousness, just to begin? Or maybe you used to draw, or sing out loud, or play guitar, or whatever, just for fun? There's a phrase: "just for fun." For pleasure. For enjoyment. "Enjoyment" is what you get when you mix entertainment and joy.
And then, one day, you don't remember when, the invisible adult critic showed up, staring at you, judging, and the joy went out.
Okay, maybe that's just me, but I want to get back to the place before the invisible critic, and just write.
Then, while browsing the BPL's website a couple of nights ago, I found an online class titled "Just Writing," so I registered (it's a Zoom class).
IT WAS AMAZING! I didn't think I would be able to write anything, but we had free writing exercises and off I went.
I promise not to share my poetry with you, but I wanted to share just this first poem I wrote (don't worry, it's short).
The word we were given was "miss" and everyone else wrote about what they are missing during the pandemic, but that never even occurred to me. What hit me immediately was things I miss about being sighted, which I never allow myself to talk about, so sharing this with strangers was really jumping into the deep end.
I miss feeling brave.
I miss walking with nowhere to go.
I miss sunlight, the changing ocean, birds wings.
Most of all, I miss your face.
Words do, literally, have very different meanings for different people, and that's one of the main things that poetry plays with, so poets are word tricksters. I've been reading poetry by Albert Goldbarth and Billy Collins, because they *definitely* go for being word tricksters.
So this is me, encouraging you to find an online class in something you love doing and rediscover enjoyment.
