Paige's Pages: On Writing Poetry

First, I want to explain the “Paige’s Pages” posts on my blog. These are the posts that appear on Monday, and they will be pretty random. They’re just my thoughts on various topics, but usually they will be writing-related. Usually, haha. :-) This week is Poetry Week on my blog so the posts will obviously be related to poetry in some way.

 

Now, for my post!  

 

I have never really thought of myself as a great poet. I have all these seemingly wonderful ideas, but they never get put down on the page exactly the way I want them to. Before, I would cram my words into a specific format, and the rhymes always seemed forced. Later, I loosened up a bit and let go of format, but something always felt wrong with my poetry. Sometimes the words did not flow the way I wanted them to, sometimes I just felt like they did not capture the feeling or image in the right way. I want to feel attached to it somehow, but I don’t know…It feels like a puzzle piece that does not fit into me in quite the right way.

 

Oh, I have the perfect poem for this! Behold, Margaret Atwood’s “You Fit into Me”:

 

“You fit into me

like a hook into an eye

 

a fish hook

an open eye”

 

Doesn’t it send chills down your spine? –shudder- Atwood is probably not talking about poetry, but poems have countless interpretations, despite what your English teachers may have you believe. Just wait until I tell you all about Billy Collins this Wednesday…So fun!

 

There are two ways something can fit into you. It can fit perfectly, or it can fit not so perfectly. You can say that something can fit not so perfectly in different ways, and I suppose that’s true, but as Ed Sheeran says (I am obsessed with this guy BTW), “Pain is only relevant if it hurts.” The worst pain you could possibly feel is the pain you feel right now. For every poem I’ve written, I feel pain because it fits into me like a fish hook into an open eye.

 

There is one poem though, that fit into me like a hook into an eye. A necklace clasp into its eye. It became a beautiful string of words, glittering with sparkling jewels and precious metals. When it fits into me, it brings about a different sort of pain: the pain I felt back then, which becomes the pain I feel right now. It’s relevant again.

 

The only problem though is, it’s only perfect to me, not to other people. No one will understand the pain that I feel when I read it. Being a poet, being a writer, being a person is a lonely job. I suppose the reason we write poetry is because it’s enough that we, ourselves understand even though other people may never completely get it.

 

So when you write poetry, strive to capture that image or feeling in exactly the way you see/understand it. If you capture it perfectly, then you’ll know because it fits into you like a hook into an eye.