Restoring My Love For Poetry
I’ve been writing poetry since the seventh or eighth grade. I recall an art project of making mother’s day cards with poems inside. But we had to take away words in order for it to portray itself as poetic. To me, it didn’t truly convey how I truly felt about my mother. It wasn’t the way I wanted to write. I vowed to myself that very day I was going to march home and write my first poem my way.
The first poem I ever wrote was titled: I’m day and you’re night. It compared human traits that were opposite from each other in poetic form. It wasn’t about anyone in particular but it was fun to write. I didn’t have any intention of sharing it until I stumbled upon the chance to be featured. I was twelve and had no prior understanding of online publishing scams and I shot my shoot. It ended up being a mistake since they charged me $49.99 for a copy of the anthology if I ever wanted to see it ever again. Sad to say, I don’t remember the words by heart. It didn’t stop me from writing my heart out and kept developing my style over time.
A zillion poems later, I finally have the opportunity to publish my first paperback with an indie press. I wasn’t at all scammed and did receive royalties from the copies I’ve sold. My friends and family have been nothing but supportive. Despite my little successes, there was dissatisfaction. I was completely sold on the dream of being discovered and having my voice being heard for the world.
It clouded over the passion writing had given me in the first place. I was blinded by the idea I was nothing until I was picked up by a bigger press and known by everyone. I depended heavily on the idea of “making it before 30.” But I hurt myself in the process with such high expectations. Why couldn’t I be happy with what I did succeed with? How could I stop comparing myself to other poets? These are questions that weighed heavy on my mind. I no longer wanted to worry about how slow my garden was growing. I began to change the way I was writing poetry to fit into the literary world. I hungered for the need to impress invisible people who had no presence in my life.
Then, an epiphany struck me. I made the conclusion that sometimes your younger self had the right idea along. Soon enough, another string of questions floated by. Why should I force myself into a box with everyone else, when I knew deep down inside, it made me unhappy? Why should I drown in oceans of metaphors and lavish sounding synonyms? What was the reason I decided to write poetry again? The answer was simple. It brought enjoyment into my life and I had a lot of things to say. Poetry is my gateway to describing precisely how I feel when simply saying it wasn’t enough. Every time I wrote a piece that reflected an emotion or a belief, I was most satisfied. I didn’t want to limit or increase the volume when it didn’t feel right. I wanted to stop the pressure of fitting in. If I came this far, it meant my words truly meant something to someone. I no longer wanted to sound like an academic or shrink myself small for views. The dopamine hit of being liked when I wrote for popularity would soon fade. I just wanted to be human and to express everything truthfully. I’m not a writing machine producing poetry for profit. As much as I want writing to be a career, I don’t want to sacrifice how I write for the sake of acknowledgement.
To elaborate, I don’t mean not improving my skill. I highly value the idea of self improvement and learning as I go along. What I truly mean is to get rid of the idea that I had to turn my poetry into a cash grab or to sound beautiful without capturing any soul. I learned as I grew older that just because a highly successful journal or publishing house didn’t accept my writing, it doesn’t automatically conclude it is horrible. I believe everyone should write how they please and not fall into the continuous pressure of creating based on current fads. They come and go, but uniqueness always has a place to stay. There is a space meant for my work despite the many disappointments I’ve come across. Call it false hope, but I know my words will make room and I deserve to take up that room.
I started to write what mattered to me. I reminded myself it was okay to add a touch of what made it human and not rely heavily on perfectionism to prove I was the best. I wanted to not only speak for myself but for others who felt how I did. The quality of my work drastically improved when I began focusing on what I believed in. If my poems reflected on my sexuality then let it be so. If my poems talked about my blackness then let it be so. If my poems sound like classic lyrical ballads or had a taste of a contemporary style, then I conclude once again, let it be so. I don’t have to write myself into a box to please everyone. Writing is an art and everyone has different tastes. If someone doesn’t think my poetry is up to their standard then they can think how they like. I refuse to comply with what others want of my art.
I want my art to be celebrated for how it is. But in order for that to happen, I had to accept my differences. Poetry style develops over time. It grows up with you and that kind of change is beautiful. If we allow our writing to grow with us like a sibling instead of conforming ourselves to what is expected of us, something beautifully unique will come out of it. That is what I think of poetry now and how I repaired my relationship with it.
And with that being said, I hope all the young poets out there realize this. Don’t let the idea of fame strip you from truly creating what you desire. You don’t want writing to become a chore. Every poem should have an opportunity to exist and not everyone has to view it. If you think it’s special, then let that feeling guide you into your journey.
