sane people don't share the inner-workings of their mind.

poetry failure:

for my issues in contemporary art and art criticism class we have a project where we have to pick something we will surely fail at. i love the assignment, but it is probably one of the hardest, most thought-provoking things i have had to do all year. just coming up with what i wanted to fail at was hard enough, but thanks to preston i eventually decided upon poetry. 

somehow my previous education skipped over poetry and i have always wanted to study/write it, so i thought this would be the perfect opportunity. i gathered dozens of books and sat myself in the empty corner the children's section of barnes and noble. i was surrounded by all of these famous and brilliant poets, but didn't know where i should start, so i asked recommendations of all the english-minded people i am close to and started there. i even persevered after three failed attempts to get a library card and read the books i checked out in the park for hours today. and while i was reading and putting off the actual writing part i realized how inadequate i am and that i have no idea what the heck i am doing and there is no way i want anyone to ever to see what i am going to write. and i was going through carolyn's blog thinking all these really great writers are going to read my poems and see how awful they really are and i felt so incredibly self-conscious. {and it doesn't help that all these beautifully written song lyrics kept popping into my head mocking me}.

but i guess it's like this: it is the same thing with art, you don't start out being good, you fail and practice at it until you reach a form of greatness. but the problem is this: i would never show anyone my first failed attempts at art, but i am showing everyone my failed attempts at poetry. such is life. no pressure right? {actually i was having a mini stress fest earlier today. and i don't stress easily. it's just that i don't want to be vulnerable or have others to think poorly of me, you see}.

but after talking with my sister audrey, i figured i would just break the ice a little bit:

i don't know what i'm doing:

 writing poetry is hard,

excuse me while i pick up my confidence's broken shards.

who knew i would have to count and number, 

so in the park i took a slumber. 

haiku?

bless you.

now i have begun thinking about cats

and how they look so cute when they wear hats.

and as i try to rhyme, 

i apologize, for my writing is a real crime. 

i am starting to feel like this is a trap, 

because after all, shakespeare never had to put up with all this crap.

now back to composing real poetry i go, 

in hopes that this poem will help my courage grow. 

{oh my goodness, what did i just do?? it is so silly and such awful attempt at a sonnet, and not like me at all!} oh well. and guess what? i actually really do love poetry and want continue on with this little project, and who knows if i am feeling especially brave i will share with you all. but only if you promise you won't laugh at me...i have a tender little heart after all, and it is easily wounded. 

oh hey, i guess i failed, A+ for me...

{i also have just been informed that if you take the "s" off of my blog address it takes you to another blog full of poetry. funny little world innit?}