In my early-to-mid-twenties, I wrote poetry. Mostly poetic rants that dealt with politics, personal doubt, anxiety, feelings of failure, disconnection and mysticism. Basically I wrote poetry because I had to write something. I was depressed. I knew writing helped even me out. Short stories were too involved, and I hated editing. I had taken writing workshops and read some poetry, but didn’t have a deep sense of why I was drawn to the form. Structurally, the poems were all over the place. I collected them about ten years ago. Someday, maybe I’ll dig back into them and see what is worth revising.
All of this is prelude to the fact that I began writing poems again in June. Our baby girl was born in mid-June, and poetry announced itself as the creative complement to this new project. I thought I’d write one poem per week. As the weeks passed, I wrote more. They spilled out of me every evening, as the sun went down, and I sat in the back, with the dogs, after Natasha took the baby upstairs for bed, after the bath time routine.
I have about fifty now. I plan to edit them and collect them into a book. In the meantime, I’ve recorded them as a way of hearing the words, taking them off the page, and finding the rhythms. Hopefully, this process will help me shape them into a collection within a few months. You can subscribe to the podcast on I-Tunes or Pocketcasts. You can also download the Anchor App (which I recommend — very simple to use and record with).
Thanks for reading and listening,