My Poetry Project – First Attempt

Ok so here’s the situation…I have until August 6th to write a poem for my sister’s wedding.  Not really the sort of thing I write these days, but I promised I would.  To keep me motivated, I’ve decided to use you my lovely unknown audience, as my sounding off board.  No, I won’t be boring you with boring imagery and bad writing attempts.  Right now this is just an exploration of why this challenge is a challenge at all.

My sister’s relationship compared to my love life, to me seems comparable to a lot of the rest of our lives.  She’s good at figuring out what she wants, and it finds her…I tend to take a less direct route to such happiness, but with lots of little happy moments along the way.  Up until recently my philosophy would have probably been that some people are just luckier than others, but lately I’ve realized there are benefits to a longer, winding journey.

Thinking back, I haven’t written anything romantic worth reading in ten years.  There have been attempts, at times when I thought I was with the right person, but it was forced.  It has been easier and safer to pour my passion into activism, and I’ve been doing that for so long that getting back into romantic imagery was going to require a gear shift, much like how my relationships for a long time, were based on what was easier to grasp rather than what I really wanted – an image comes to mind of low hanging fruit, but I’m not trying to be mean.  I honestly thought of love like a drug addiction, thinking that nothing would ever feel as good as my first hit.  My point in telling you this: my sister based her request on my ability to write, and the fact that this is supposed to be about them, but any good writer knows, it’s all going to come out like crap if there’s no passion behind it.

I’ll be honest when I was first given this task, I tried to cheat.  I read romantic stories, watched chick flicks, listened to other people’s recipes for love, but the cynic in me seeped through my pours, blocking out any attempt at mushiness.  I could still come up with great imagery after reading.  I tend to narrate internally after reading a good book.  I’d notice the cloud of smoke hanging like a speech bubble of frustration by a smoker’s mouth, or the way someone taps their foot in shoes that look to clean for someone riding the ttc.   For a while I considered bs-ing my way through, make it funny instead of deep so no one would notice.

Lately though, I’ve had some unexpected help, more like a seedling of help at this point, but this seedling seems to have grown from something different, enough to bring back bubbles building in my chest that may at some point provide me with something to draw from…for fear of getting ahead of myself I won’t say more on that, and it’s not something I need to share anyway.  I sent my inner cynic on an extended vacation, I’ll put it that way.

For now all I can say is, may the moment you knew you had something good stay with you always, and may the times you feel light guide you through heaviness…and if that fails, then joel go buy her some chocolate milk, ariana go make him a sandwich,  do lots of kinky things that I don’t want to hear about…and remember your Sis/in-law loves you 🙂

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