Poetry Drafts

Just after the Christmas holidays, I posed a question to my husband: "What if we knocked down this wall and this wall and then ripped up the carpet and repainted the walls in here? You know, make this space more liveable." As any happy newlywed husband would do, he knocked down some walls, ripped up some carpet, and filled up the empty space with sheets off drywall, tools, and other reno materials. Between our busy schedules, we're slowly chipping away at this massive overzealous project. I'm sure we'll have it completed soon, but it's definitely left the house looking like a mess.  

But since this blog is about writing, here's some thoughts on writing: For as long as I can remember, one of the most repeated (and cliched) sayings I have had tossed my way with respect to writing is 'write what you know.' In my writing career, I have taken this saying and turned it into my personal mantra. When writing poetry, no matter how hard I try to avoid it, the poem ends up turning into a reflection of my life and the circumstances I've found myself in.

My previous collection, written for a first year creative writing class, circulated around meeting my husband and falling in love (cheese ball, I know!), but I found a lot of inspiration for writing poetry through my personal experiences. The collection, in my extremely modest opinion, turned out really well. Maybe now that I'm pregnant, I'll find even more inspiration for a second collection.

For now, I'll just take advantage of my half demolished house and hectic life. Enjoy!

Draft #1

Empty Shell

The spoon

you tap

tap, tap, tap

across the table

you made

and we moved

so I could gut the room

we never used

with the stained

pink carpet

water-stained ceiling

yellow walls filled

with abandoned art

hung by someone

you used to know

Life Hack #1

Do the dishes nightly

Wipe the crumb-filled counters

Put away the left overs

in matching Tupperware

neatly

Consider doing the laundry,

attacking the dirty mound

growing outward

from the dark corner

in your empty bedroom

Pull out your laptop instead

Run your fingers over

the lit-up keys and glance

at the ring below your knuckle

bouncing light across the walls

Listen to the dishwasher churn

while it scrubs away

the remnants of another meal

another day, another dinner

Rinse and repeat