Experiment #34) A different form of writing
What I used to loathe and love about poetry.
I don’t like poetry.
I should say… I don’t like it as a general rule.
When I was a kid, my writing consisted strictly of poems and short stories.
Roses were red, violets were blue, and people were getting whisked away in time machines, sometimes while eating tangerines. 😂
I liked writing poems in the AABBCC format (and sometimes just the AAAAAAAA format). I enjoyed finding two words that rhyme, then two more, then two more. Riveting fun for hours, I’m telling you.
In high school literature class, we studied poetry and discovered the structures behind various lines and stanzas. We learned about sonnets, haikus, free verse, and odes. We paid attention to length, meter, and rhyme. Poetry felt romantic and whimsical. I tucked the information away for future love ballads and letters…
Sigh.
As an adult though, I’ve never much liked poetry. I’m definitely not writing nearly as many love ballads as I thought I would.
Poetry makes me tired, confused, bored. I don’t understand it as much as I’d like and often misinterpret its meanings. And more often than not, I’m in too deep with the novel I’m reading to have the patience for stopping to smell the poetry.
At least, that’s how I felt untillllllll I started listening to David Whyte READING poetry TO ME on the Waking Up meditation app.
His poems just hit different. (not to mention his dreamy voice!)
I tried to find you the exact one I’m over-the-moon about, but even with the help of Chat GPT and pouring over transcripts from where I first heard it, I can’t find it. Anywho, trust me when I say, it’s my favorite poem EVER and incredibly impactful.
Here’s one of his along a similar vein so you can at least get a taste:
The well of grief
Those who will not slip beneath
the still surface on the well of grief,
turning down through its black water
to the place we cannot breathe,
will never know the source from which we drink,
the secret water, cold and clear,
nor find in the darkness glimmering,
the small round coins,
thrown by those who wished for something else.
Welp, for obvious reasons… I can’t say I don’t enjoy poetry anymore. ❤️
(and never should have made such a sweeping generalization in the first place!)
Perhaps it was that his life-changing poem rang through my ears just days before, maybe I was struck with the Christmas spirit, I’m not sure what came over me… but on Christmas morning, I played with poetry again.
And what, pray tell is a person like me supposed to do with a poem she wrote!?
I can’t weave it into an analogy for my business/marketing
I’m way too scared to randomly share it on social media
I don’t swap writing projects with anyone at the moment, so didn’t text it to a friend
So, as an experiment in vulnerability, and an experiment in writing it in the first place… I’m peeling it out of my notebook and sharing it with you. 🤷🏻♀️
What I realized in writing this is that by simply deciding you’re going to write poetry, you open yourself up to looking deeper, seeing a familiar thing in a new way, turning it over and over and around.
As David Whyte says, “Prose is the art of explaining, while poetry is the very essence of the thing itself.”
Never Underestimate a Zipper
A poem written on Christmas (not to be confused with a Christmas poem)
Never underestimate a zipper.
Its ability to keep “this” from seeping into “that”
The ire it causes when things get off track
The warmth it ensures, the cool it affords
Never underestimate a zipper.
It makes an eternity out of that final second before restroom relief
Ready to slip and fail you at the most inopportune moments
A knack for turning a situation from status quo, professional, everything’s good here -to awkward, uncomfortable, and I want to go home… all without uttering a single word
Never underestimate a zipper.
A shiny object, yet rarely distracting or chased
All teeth, no bite
Used daily without a second thought
Reliable. Strong. Secure.
Dress it up. Dress it down.
Don one. Two. Three. More.
Named for the sound it makes, it’s used to indicate you won’t say a peep.
At the ready to protect what’s inside your pouch, purse, and pants
Fiercely guarding your most valuable possessions, never asking for the spotlight.
Never estimate a zipper.
Form.
Fashion.
Function.
Ubiquitous. Mysterious. At times dubious.
Ingenious.
The point of this experiment?
Sometimes we just create for the sake of creating. There doesn’t always need to be a reason or purpose behind what you write, do, build, and make.
May this encourage YOU to try out a not-normal-to-you writing style (or something else you’ve sworn you don’t enjoy…) and see where it takes you!
Love your poem!! Literally had me thinking more about this functional piece that exists in so many forms in my closet in many new ways...thanks for being brave enough to share. And for the link to David Whyte — will have to check out his work.