I am not a poet, nor am I a fan of modern poetry. I like to hear a story and to me, modern poetry feels like a collection of words that you get to try and figure out. I can understand why that would be appealing to some, but it’s not what I prefer. I like having the author paint a story and then express emotions from that. Poetry I enjoy involves works by Edgar Allan Poe or maybe TS Eliot, and I only enjoy Eliot because I had to do a project on him in high school.
Of all the readings, the ones I appreciated the most were the poets in the news. While politically I more often than not disagreed with what they were saying, as an art form I found it the most preferable of all the poems read. You knew what they were talking about and could interpret emotions based off that event or major issue. I like a story or point of reference, and since those were based off an event or social issue it made it easier to follow. It still had the complexity to cause the reader to think and reflect on a viewpoint that might not necessarily be shared with the author while not having a vague meaning.
The readings from “Writing Down the Bone” helped the most trying to write in a genre I’m not comfortable in. The book can pretty much be summed up in, “just write, no really just do it.” There’s also a few tips and tricks throughout that help if you’re struggling, but the overall theme of the book is to just write. The piece of advice that has stuck with me is to give yourself permission to write garbage. There’s always so much pressure to put out work on a pedestal, like we have to write the best work imaginable. Truth is that writing is never going to happen, and it can be intimidating to realize you might not write well. Giving yourself permission to be bad is one less hurdle to sit down and let the process work. It was that philosophy, “just write” mixed with “it’s ok to write trash”, that helped the most. As stated, I’m not a poet, and knowing it could suck made it easier to just write.
Ironically, as much as I hate reading vague/obtuse poems, it was poems like that I enjoyed writing the most. The first real writing exercise we did was when picked 25 words from the poetry packet and then wrote 3 poems including 20 of them. I tried to write poems incorporating the emotions I felt that made me pick them. I wrote notes next to each word so I knew where it came from and could remind myself what it was that had drawn me to that particular word. These poems were really special to me and I couldn’t really say why. This portfolio is the first time I’m sharing them since I couldn’t even bring myself to share them with classmates during our peer workshop. It was nothing against them, since everyone has been amazingly supportive with everything that was shared. During class, someone said the piece from “Writing down the Bones” that stuck with them was about letting your poems go so others could read them. It’s good advice that I’m trying to take to heart.
The sonnet was both the easiest and hardest poem I wrote. I modeled it after Shakespeare’s “My Mistress’ Eyes are nothing like the sun”, one of my favorites ever since I read it in high school. I really like the message of how things don’t have to be perfect to be for you to be happy. The part I struggled with was the formating. I’ve never been good at counting syllables and the iambic pentameter is something I struggle with. I’m not sure if I properly captured it, but I still enjoyed writing it. This is another one I don’t feel comfortable sharing with too many people, mostly because like I imply in the sonnet, a lot of my family members have to make sure things look perfect for strangers online. I don’t understand it and they never seem as happy they pretend.
The news poems meant a lot to write. The first one I chose was about a bug with Apple’s facetime that let people over hear conversations without the user knowing. I was in high school when Facebook started to get popular, I grew up in a world without the internet and all the changes due it are both amazing and frightening to me. On the one hand, it allowed me to email my husband while he was deployed on a submarine. On the other, people’s identities are being stolen and don’t know until it’s too late. My husband and I both had our information hacked by China’s cyber attack to the DoD’s system a few years ago. We did everything we were supposed to, but the federal government couldn’t keep our info safe. How can we trust a simple phone to do it?
The other I wrote was on nuclear power. Between the Navy and now working a co-op at Fermi II I have been working with nuclear power for about a decade. There is a lot of concerns that surrounded, but also a lot of misinformation. I’m not saying people are wrong to want proof of nuclear safety, that’s what keeps people in check and prevents accidents. What I wish was there was more research and less fear mongering.
The final poem I wrote was a reflection on Whereas. Honestly, most of the book didn’t impact me. The things Layli Long Soldier endured and her perspectives were so far removed from me, I wasn’t really affected. What I appreciated was her attempt to create the connection and the poems that did hit hard were the ones I could relate to as a mother: ones that talked about her sorrow with her miscarriages and the pain she carried from them, the feeling of welcoming her daughter into the world, the burden of raising children in today’s society while still centering them in the past. The last one I really meant a lot. My father is the son of Mexican immigrants who believed in assimilation. I didn’t grow up with many traditions I can point to and say that’s from their culture. I’m not even Catholic like they were. Trying to teach my daughters something I don’t fully understand is daunting, and I have the benefit of having relatives still in Mexico speaking a language spoken around the world. I can’t imagine how overwhelming it must be when it’s a fight to keep the language and customs alive.
The other one that struck was Dakota 38. I was moved by the injustice of what happened and how it’s been glossed over by our history books, but that wasn’t what struck the most, it was the yearly memorial ride to honor them that did. My mother’s family came over before the revolution and a member of that side of the family has served in the Navy every generation going back to the Spanish-American war. Reverence for those who came before, especially those who sacrificed for us, is something I grew up with. Even if the culture isn’t yours, the history isn’t yours, it is still important for the memory to be honored.
Katee's Writing 