Poetry is hard of late. Yesterday was spent conjuring up lines and stanzas for one poem that I’ve been working on for what seems like an age, only to think fuck it, it’s not meant to be. I’ve written 10 lines of poetry so far; I’ve got 70 to go. All to be finished by August 31.
I’m beginning to wonder if poetry can be taught. I felt that I had a spark during assignment 2 (my best assignment to date) but then it seemed to fall flat. I have read more poetry; a huge help, although at times I’m left deflated because I know that what I’ve written is amateurish.
When I started this course I hadn’t written poetry since my A levels – many moons ago – even then it was brief and so for me, I needed to touch base with form, rhyme, metre and so forth. I feel that the coursework exercises didn’t touch on this at all. You are really thrown in at the deep end and hope you don’t drown.
Thank goodness for Stephen Fry’s The Ode Less Travelled and Peter Sansom’s Writing Poems. I learnt much about form, rhyme and metre from them.
My tutor has been fantastic too. Her encouragement and knowledge (and recommendations) have spurred me on to write better poetry and believe in myself.
So, this is clearly a bad week that I’m having. Pity Party is over. Now I will continue my ‘poetry’.
Thanks for coming.