I spent the evening making dinner for a friend. She read me poetry while we ate cinnamon toast–things that remind us of home. A few nights before this same friend read me poetry at her house and we ate grilled cheese sandwiches and drank wine (better wine than what I have here, that I bought just to see how good/bad it could be). We did this all with another friend who is the subject of two stories I’ve written.
These are all relevant to things I’m working on now.
I started feeling a muse for poetry again. I haven’t truly felt it since I was 15. I plan on submitting some of this poetry along with my usual, creative nonfiction. When I was 15, I used to write more songs than poetry. It’s felt great to just work through poetry in a different way than I do prose–to get back to some of my writing roots in this new time in my life.
I recommend even those who don’t consider themselves to be poets to still try their hand at poetry–even if they hate what they try. Try form or free-verse. Experiment with rhyme scheme or the way a poem appears visually on the page. Even in form, there’s a freedom in poetry.
I think I’m going to send off some of the poems I wrote tonight over the course of this week to various publications. I hope to hear back from someone soon.