How I started writing

Before I started writing poetry, I wrote short prose and the beginner essay pieces and would keep them in a large journal that I got on sale at Waldenbooks in our mall. I even remember when I got it: a day that I ran into my best friend and unknown-to-him crush at said bookstore. Since then, (at the time) what I mostly wrote were the requisite young unrequited love pieces that young girls write but keep hidden away in a diary. I think I only showed them to best friend since fifth grade, Heidi.

Well one day when I was older and in college I was a member of a literary organization at school. Our group president was what I would have called a poet. I decided to try my hand at the form, having never had any real practice at it. And I wrote the longest poem (albeit the only poem) I had ever written. I guess what I was really writing was an essay (because that's all I knew how to write) poem. :P So I showed my new attempt to our group president who in no uncertain words told me to keep writing what I knew ... essays and prose. And instead of a valuable critique, I was criticized. So, I never wrote another poem again ... until years later when I found myself in an advanced creative writing classes as  a graduated journalism major because I was told I needed the hours to teach.

And having already been told by someone I looked up to that I pretty much sucked at poetry, I was afraid to even try. But I had to write. And gratefully I wound up with a very understanding professor who would later become my mentor. And since I was trying to get hat group president's voice out of my head, I started writing the shortest poems possible. But with her guidance and helping me hone the craft, I not only developed a love of poetry, but of service learning as well and started my own community writing group that is now four years strong.

Don't get me wrong. Half the time I feel like I have no idea what I'm doing as writing is hard work that at times take both sweat and tears. But now I have the confidence to try and make mistakes. Not to mention a very supportive writing and poetry community (read: family) to keep me going when I feel like giving up.

Now I find myself writing this post because I can't sleep and instead of writing in secret in a journal, I share my experiences and the difficulty in writing what is hardest at times... truth.

My Non-Sonnet Sonnet

Okay, well here is my version of the Sonnet I decided to tackle. And I say "version" because it is not a true sonnet.  While my intention was to stay true to the Sherman Alexie poem, "The Facebook Sonnet", I was concentrating more on counting iambs in his poem and trying to match the number of syllables in mine PER LINE or as close as I could get anyway. Also, I have no end rhymes in any of my lines, while Alexie does. However, I did stay true to the 14-line form.

Below is my poem followed by Alexie's poem. Compare the two. What do you think? I had a hard time just letting my own words come and free myself of what I was basing it on .. attempting a perfect match. But in the end, how can it be a match  and be mine at the same time?


The Starbucks Sonnet
by Linda Romero

 

Welcome to the incorporated,
Caffeinated den. Welcome students,
Entrepreneurs, however tired
Or money-thirsty. Let's consume

In self-preservation. Why isn't
Every seeker of life the same?
Let's connect, disconnected
From our lives plugged-in

Let those new and known by drink
Seek out more than net worth, polished
Poems. Let one's search for acceptance
Be found with lattes and black coffee

Let's come in, come together and sit
Here in the caffeinated den.

The Facebook Sonnet
by Sherman Alexie

Welcome to the endless high-school
Reunion. Welcome to past friends
And lovers, however kind or cruel
Let's undervalue and unmend

The present. Why can't we pretend
Every stage of life is the same?
Let's exhume, resume and extend
Childhood. Let's play the games

That preoccupy  the young. Let fame
And shame intertwine.  Let one's search
For God become public domain.
Let church.com become our church.

Let's sign up, sign in and confess
Here  at the alter of loneliness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A new start ...

The title of this, my first post, could very easily be about more than just my first post to this blog. Today it also means having to take a new look at a poem I've been fussing with. And I say "fussing" because the perfectionist me has trouble letting go and allowing myself to write freely and rebel against a particular form (insert any form here).

The form in question is that of Sonnet. I have never even attempted to write one, much less think I could possibly chose one to imitate. But I generally decide to do the things that are most complicated (or I make complicated), so I decided I could take Sherman Alexie's poem, "The Facebook Sonnet" and attempt to imitate it in my own voice with a different focus.

Usually when I write I don't have a particular form in mind, just the job ahead of putting words to paper, allowing the poem to "choose" its own form, so to speak. But when given a prompt, in form to imitate ... that's when that perfectionist nature takes over and I find myself counting iambs instead of honing a true image. Gratefully, my poet family has no trouble reminding me what is most important.