It's Not The Ending It's Only The Beginning

Starting off on a depressing note, unfortunately this week marks the end of poetry class for me at Wyoming Seminary. I can honestly say that it has seriously been one of the most inspiring and eye awaking classes I can taking, and Mrs. Lewis I'm not sucking up because my number one rule in poetry is not to be fake.

Year after year, I've studied poets in my various English classes. Last year, in my AP American Seminar class, I studied a lot of the same poets that we studied in poetry class this term. Luckily for me they were great poems like "Chicago," and "A Supermarket In California" by great poets Carl Sandburg and Alan Ginsberg respectively. Year after year my knowledge of poetry deepens, however the main reason I was so inspired by this class is that it gave me an environment where I felt free to write my own poetry. I've never really had the chance to do that until this year and I think personally I have shocked not only myself, but others with my newfound hobby and talent: writing poetry.

Writing poetry is much different for me than reading poetry. Yes some poets have inspired me in my own poetry, but their poetry is about them; it is not about me. Writing poetry is such a personal thing that it is almost tough to do. You try to explain the most complicated things in your life, and it's tough to do. At the same time, doing this kind of thing is so rewarding in the sense that you can get some things off of your chest in a "classy" way instead of just bitching to somebody about your problems. When I write poetry, and when it's poetry that I think is actually good poetry, I get a feeling that is almost like a natural high. Poetry has allowed me to start being true to myself, and has allowed me to stop caring about what people think about me. It's allowed me to cut the bullshit in my life, and start thinking about myself for once. I've felt lost in life for the past few months, caught between my past and my future, and the frustration has nearly made me crazy, but being able to write about it in poetry has really helped me. Being able to look at myself, and think about myself has seriously changed me as a person. I don't how or why, but I definitely have changed, and if you know me you can probably tell because before I definitely would never have said "bullshit" in my writing!

What I've seen is that as I've put more and more effort in my poetry, I have seen results. The first time I actually was able to produce a poem that I was really proud of and not embarrassed to read due to lack of quality or true personal meaning was when I wrote my poem about Walgreens entitled "A Drugstore in Kingston" (A play off of Ginsberg's "A Supermarket In California"). I really wanted to make it good after being so shocked by what Ginsberg could do by writing about just a regular supermarket, and turning it into a commentary on the 1950's consumerism and conformity. I wanted to write a poem not just to write one for class, but I wanted to write a poem with actual meaning. Here is my poem called A Drugstore in Kingston:

A Drugstore in Kingston

As I walk through the automatic doors, I see the vivid colored labels jumping out at me like they want to shake my hand.

You can get everything you ever want in the store, in all stages of life.

From baby diapers to adult diapers, from training wheels to wheelchairs, and from potty training seats, to raised toilet seats for the elderly.

Aisles of candy, cookies, soda, frozen food, magazines, bread: you can have anything you want to eat. Decorate your homes with plates, tablecloths, glasses, and candles.

From celebration cards to sympathy cards, come into the store in any mood we’ll always take your money.

Make yourself feel pretty: make up, hairbrushes, scented deodorant, and perfume. But are you prettier?

Pleasure yourself with condoms, cigarettes, and alcohol. But are you pleased?

Anything I could ever want, but not really.

As I walk up and down the aisles late at night looking up into the reflection of my own tired blue eyes and ask myself Who am I? Why am I here? Who are these people around me? Am I alone? Seeking the truth, there is none. What will I buy? I don’t know what to look for.

When writing this poem, I really strove for meaning, and I found what I was looking for, and that feeling was only confirmed when my class, and my teacher were shocked at the deep meaning of this poem. After writing this poem I was further inspired to write because I realized that I can write poetry.

Since the beginning of the trimester, my poetry has improved in my opinion, exponentially. An example of this is with our first and last assignments. Our first assignment was to write a poem about the meaning of poetry titled "What is Poetry." Here is my first poem:

What is Poetry

Poetry.

Yes Words, Yes Meter, Yes Rhyme.

Read the Complex Truth.

Feel The Free Love.

Write the Truthful Expression.

No Rules, No Judgement, No Circumstances.

Poetry.

This poem was a very short, simple and an acceptable one, but after about 12 weeks of poetry class, this is my new definition of poetry in the form of a poem in my "What is Poetry II" assignment:

What is Poetry?

Poetry is me.

It’s the song I sing, it’s the drink I drink.

Poetry is my voice, screaming out loud and I’m hoarse

It’s the nerve of me to say something that shouldn’t be said

It’s the thoughts that I keep to myself that no one else knows

It’s the craziness I get because of the secrets that lie in your eyes

It’s the belief that I’m the person I need to get away from,

It’s the struggle to understand not what everyone wants from me but what I want from myself

Poetry is the reality

That I’m always looking over my shoulder

That I’ve got a bad feeling about my future

That there are white, concrete walls all around me

That I don’t know what to do

I’m not unhappy but I’m scared that there’s

No compass to point out the way

That I’m lost at sea and slowly drowning

And that day by day I’m losing my mind

Because I know you’re looking

And I know what you’re thinking

But it’s ok, keep pretending

I keep praying for sanity but everyday

I wake up in this strange world wondering

Why everyone thinks I’ve got it figured out

When I have no idea who I am

Or why do they think I’ve got everything

When I feel like I’ve got nothing

Wondering why I have to answer questions,

Wondering how I can get away from the insanity

Poetry is the dream

The dream of lying beneath a sky that matches the one in my eyes

In a world where no one’s alone

Where the wind blows through my sand crusted hair

And I’m sailing under that big smiling sun

This is the dream

Of lovers who lie together dreaming of a dream

Dreaming that their love is more than just a dream

The dream that somehow the dreariness of the everyday will end

And That I won’t have to dream of what you’re dreaming of when you’re alone

Where no one’s afraid to be strange

Where no one is fake for the sake of being real

People marching to their own drummers,

The dream that there no longer needs to be dreams

Poetry is the place I go

Where no one knows,

Where I can dream this dream

Where I can get things off my chest, blow off some steam

Who says I can’t?

Here I am, me, no need to impress no need to address

Who cares what some might say

I hate the past, I hate the future, I love the now

In this place, I’m the judge, jury, and the press, but I’m also me

this is the road, not the shortcut, you’re on the detour

The only way you can find it is if you can concede

That it’s not really their way or the highway

Join me, let’s runaway

Stay by my side I’ll show you the way

Mmmm Let’s smell the smells

And laugh and laugh because it’s a feeling we’ve never felt before

Poetry is it’s good to be free.

As you can probably see this poem is a whole HELL OF A LOT different than my first poem. To be honest, I really just wrote my first poem like that because number one I had no idea "What is Poetry." I framed it in a way where it could be quirky, and there would be nothing wrong with it. When I wrote that in poetry there are no rules, I didn't really mean it because I was restricting myself. Contrast that with my second poem. My second poem lets me express myself about my personal meaning of poetry. I certainly did not write that by following any guidelines at all, I wrote what I felt. That's it. It had more meaning to me, and I think it gives people insight about how poetry can have an affect on a person, and not necessarily what poetry should mean to them, but maybe it can give them an idea that poetry is literally anything you want it to be.

The thing that I am most sad about as I depart from my one term stint with poetry class is that no one will be pushing me to develop my poetry further. However, what I am looking forward to is that I will continue writing poetry that's meaningful to me, and can help me further understand and discover who I am as a person.

I want to take the time to thank Mrs. Lewis for helping me along this journey, and here's to my future writing poetry!