Why, oh, why does every creative writing class require me to write poetry? I have no capacity, no talent to wax poetically. I repeat I am Not a Poet!
Procrastination is the word of the day. What I have accomplished: read and sorted all my emails, read several blogs, watched a YouTube video and filled out a questionnaire. I have consumed a pot of strong tea accompanied by three chocolate McVitties Digestive Biscuits.
What I should have accomplished: a prose poem without line breaks, a narrative poem using a metaphor, a response to an essay by Richard Hugo on writing off the subject. So here I sit, drafting a daft blog post, moving no closer to completing any of my tasks.
We have reached mid-semester in my community college writing course. Apparently, we are abandoning prose for the remainder of the semester. Henceforth, we will only write poetry: prose, narrative, lyrical, villanelle…how many ways will I be tortured?
I do enjoy reading poetry-occasionally. I even own a few anthologies. But I am not drawn to the creation of the poem. Rhythm and meter elude me. Words will not weave their way willingly from my pen. Metaphor and I are not on speaking terms. Poetic inspiration is a distant relative who only visits occasionally. The poetry writing exercises pile up on my desk like dunning letters from creditors. I despair, I weep for thoughts deep, I … ooh-look, a sale e-mail from Crate & Barrel!