Four months ago I wrote a post about starting my 4th Open University degree course; this one in Creative Writing. It’s going well so far. The first section was about general writing and around March time I’ll learn about life writing. The next 8 weeks though I have poetry and I’m not really looking forward to it.
I remember when I was little I had a few poetry books- my favourites were When I am 6 by AA Milne and a book by Shel Silverstein. Childish and nonsense poems and yet more than 30 years on these are still the only poems that stand out to me. I’ve studied poetry throughout school and then again several times over the last few years on this course. I’ve read and studied sonnets, learned about the horrors of war from Wilfred Owen and escapism from racism in early 20th century America from Langston Hughes. I’ve read (and tried not to fall asleep – sorry) about the majesty and breathtaking scenery of the Romantic greats. And still my favourite poem is about a man who has forgotten to wear his pants.
I’ve tried to write a few poems and so far have managed a couple about school. One could be classed as escaping the uniformity of teenage girls and the way society insists on a ‘perfect’ image for our youngsters. Mostly though it was just because I liked her shoes.
I have a half finished poem about a witch trying to cast a spell which will enable her daughter to find the perfect man. It’s still though quite sing-song-y and a bit innocent. Funny how my main writing often covers traumatic real life events, mental health problems and more yet ask me to write you a poem and all I want to do is make you laugh.
I have to do a poetry assignment in February – either one long 40 line poem or several smaller ones that add up to 40 lines and my thoughts and inspiration for it so far centres around the circus. Again it seems like I may be trapped in an 8 year olds body where rhyme is concerned. I only hope my tutor isn’t looking for the new Wordsworth…