My love affair with poetry started from a very young age. I was eight when I had my first unit on poetry in school. I loved the way I could use metaphors, imagery, and illusions to accurately depict the way I was feeling or viewed the world.
I never thought I was creative growing up. I was never good at drawing or painting or really any arts and crafts for that matter. The perfectionist in me didn’t understand how there was no ‘good’ way to make art.
But poetry resonated with me.
The creativity of poetry spoke to my passions. It accurately illustrates how I feel about the world and what I’m drawn to in it.
Poetry for me isn’t something I write day to day, it comes in waves of inspiration. I could write verses several times in a week or as few as once a month. But when the words come, they flood my mind and end up filling up what ever piece of paper I can find. Because if I don’t catch them in their infancy, they’re gone forever.
It starts with a title. Always. Without a name for my poem, it’s a shapeless form. Just like my articles, I have to start with a title before I know anything. Looking into my journals, planners, and calendar, you’ll find scribbled titles of brief moments of innovation.
Without the inspiration, poetry is lifeless, it’s just words on page with no meaning or direction.
But when there is inspiration, poetry is effortless for me. It flows out with predetermined ease, pouring out of my heart and my mind.
If I didn’t have poetry as an outlet I can’t imagine who I’d be. Without my own brand of creativity, I don’t think I would be able to complete the self-care that I need when the world seems consuming. I feel lucky to have a long relationship with poetry as it helps me feel a bit more like me during the tough times life likes to throw my way.
