Writing a poem a day for a year is an incredibly daunting task. I had no idea what to expect. I have only ever completed one 30/30 (thirty poems, thirty days) in my life even though I had started many, so this task seemed unreachable. But here I am at day 32 feeling amazing. I am so surprised at the content I am producing and the way the words are coming out.
I didn't have a theme in mind when I started this but naturally they are forming. I also decided to make the final line of the previous poem the title for the next days poem. Not only does this help with my disdain for titling a work after it is completed, but it also gives me a jump off point when I am feeling stuck.
I am trying new forms, new styles, new voices. They are not all winners, I can promise you that. But I no longer am getting bogged down and self critical because hey, there's always tomorrow to write a winner, right? I am also not paying as much attention to the technical edits/grammar/typos which feels lazy, but actually allows me to focus solely on content. Don't worry my grammar nerd friends, I do go back and edit (when I can).
I don't imagine this will get any easier and I am still deciding the point of all this. But so far it is a great exercise and it's keeping me sharp. It's forcing me out of my comfort zone and I think we all need to do what scares us a little bit (except for like, fight a bear or something). So here's my favorite poem so far, just to share a little. Enjoy!
21. New Light Shine
Did you hear the one about the too bright light bulb? She unwound her waist from the shook ceiling fan tied the cord loose around her corkscrew throat said “this ones for all the unbelievers and the bitches with the switches who never ask to turn me on or who shut me off before I’m even warmed up yet - a life under someone else’s thumb ain’t a life worth livin’ at all” then she flung herself through stale ceiling air, flew tush over tea kettle or bulb over brains, or ass over glass dust particles kicking a can-can as she shimmied on past a celebration shooting from the now freed socket who remembered to breathe she turned back to him and tipped her cap or winked her light, or sparkled her eye and continued dancing downward until suddenly she crashed shattering to a billion separate pieces of dusty glittering glass and when she cracked open they still swear to this day they saw a sky open up in the floor absorbing her scattered sunlight she turned back down up to the earth and screamed “there’s no such thing as too bright just un-adjusted eyes who can’t see that sometimes you have to fall to fly”