Tomorrow is the start of my shiny new semester. I am excited. I took on more than a full load this time because I hate sleeping. One of my classes is Poetry. I think I bought four books for this class. I have a wonderful habit of writing in every book I buy, so you can bet that these texts will stay on my bookshelf for the rest of my life. When I pass maybe someone will crack the dusty binding open and see the poorly drawn daisies on most pages and nonsensical notes that I took.
But, I don’t like poetry. When I signed up for the class I immediately thought of this comic from Toothpaste For Dinner:
Why the heck does this lady hate poetry so much?
Well, first off, I don’t hate poetry. I really don’t. But I don’t want to write it. It’s kind of like the reason I am not a lesbian. I appreciate the beauty of women, but I have no desire to have one for myself. Just the same, I have no desire to have poetry in my life. But, the University says I gotta take this class if I want to get that document to hang above my desk.
How does one learn to like poetry? Is it like learning to love asparagus? My parents’ method was to have me sit at the dinner table for literally hours until I allowed the cold slithery mounds of mush to make their way down my throat. Later in life I found that I did like asparagus, just not the canned variety that my mother was so found of.
Sure, I can handle prose at times. But when I have to listen to fellow classmates read line after line of confusing amaturish jibber-jabber I really do cringe. And it is not something I am proud of. I will be in the group of jibber-jabberers (my spell check is LOVING these words) as well. I think that is what I am most hesitant about in this class. Reading aloud what I write. I can do that with non-fiction and even with some fiction, but man, I don’t want to read poetry.
And on that note, you know what else I somewhat dislike about the first day of classes? The meet and greet questions. Like, “Everybody go around the room and state your name and your favorite Popsicle flavor” There’s always those people in class that can turn their answer into a five minute long autobiography.
The reasons I have aversions to these things is not because they are without merit. I am sure that they break the ice in some form or another, but I get so scared of talking in front of people that I usually end up squawking as opposed to talking. They should make more classes online. I can certainly type up a storm without hesitation.
I hope they spend a great deal of time on haikus. I can write the heck outta those:
member that one time,
we went to the skating rink
and it looked so small?
The Pilver 
My wish for you is that, like asparagus, you will learn that you like poetry after all. Fresh is best. And you look like you oughta have a lot of rhythm. Go for the formal variety. Once that “music” gets in your bones words take on a whole new life.
If you get stuck or ever want to talk poetry, look me up. My blog is Fools Like Me.
Best,
Patti
Yes, I hope that too. After all, I will be spending endless hours reading and writing it.
When the people in your class start to write really rediculous things for the sake of sounding deep and abstract, I dare you to stand up and read a string of completely random and unrelated words and call it poetry too. I imagine it would be something like:
Blue and purple
The turtles swim in the clouds
And you the clock
On the mountain of my wisdom
Sharp knives and computer screens
Love.
Thumb-tacks
And an abrasive friend, lightly
Blowing bubbles.
And then everyone in the class will applaud you, and you teacher will say “Very introspective, Kristiane.”. And you’ll sit down thinking “You guys are all insane.”
That. was. awesome.
I just may 😉
I enjoy reading poetry at times, but my efforts in writing it suck loudly. But, the mere fact that you’ll learn to intelligently discuss things like iambic pentameter takes you that much further up the ladder of life. Best of luck!
Oh honey, I feel for you. I wish they had a proverb writing class instead. Then I could really help you out.
“Crackers that smell like feet should be eaten in private.
……..or not at all.” ~ Billy ’08
Ok, maybe not a help but at least it would be more fun.
Wouldn’t that be funny? Then everyone in the class would be like “I think the turtle represents her feelings of inadequacy, and the bubbles are her child-like idealism.” Then, you will have to leave the room ’cause you’re laughing so hard, and everyone will think it is because you’re so moved that they “get you”.
ohmaigawd.
Poetry.
You all got it spot on- I hate poetry.
I tried writing it in Creative writing.
Wrote a very personal poem- couldn’t call it a poem, even, all it was was 20 lines of three syllables expressing my emotion of the discovery of my Suicidal Aunt’s body by her 7 year old son.
The teacher published it in the schools literary and art magazine without my permission, and allowed some two-bit hack art student to illustrate a picture.
yeah. poetry sucks balls.
WOW Kittymao, that is really invasive.
Yeah…I used to be a poet back in jr. high and high school.
Now I’m scared to death of them and the last one I wrote was because it was assigned in class. Well…I guess I’m not really scared of them…I just have a healthy respect for the skill required to write good poetry. And I hate how everyone in poetry or creative writing classes just LOOOVE the “simplicity” of poems and just LOOOOVE writing the shit out of them….when only one or two people every few semesters are actually really good at it.
I just now got a grasp on writing a decent essay every now and then, and I can’t really get myself to write good short fiction and prose stuff yet….I’m just going to leave the poetry alone for a while. But I really would like to improve on that eventually.
Good luck in your class. I hope you learn a lot despite fears. Or annoyances.
Oh yeah…I forgot to mention how hilarious I thought that comment by Essaytch was.
That was some deep stuff. Very…DEEP.
Why thank you, Michael! 🙂 *takes a bow*