The Swing of Things

I’ve not writ­ten any poet­ry in quite some time. I did man­age to get an A in my Advanced Poet­ry Writ­ing class, but I’m not quite sure how I feel about that. Over the semes­ter I felt myself becom­ing less and less fresh and cre­ative, instead the poems became steadi­ly more like mass-pro­duced objects with assign­ment com­ple­tion as the goal rather than qual­i­ty.

All my poems took on a sort of archa­ic, uncon­tem­po­rary feel to them, some­times because of my word choice, some­times because of my sen­tence con­struc­tion, some­times because of my sub­ject mat­ter. Per­haps my most cre­ative poem that semes­ter, Fiat Tab­u­la Rasa, was also the deep­est embed­ded into med­i­ta­tions of archaism and moder­ni­ty.

The point is, I need a fresh new direc­tion, some Muse to sub­mit to, a bit of spice in my life.

Much of my poet­ry of late has dealt with end­ings, must I now write about cre­ative stag­na­tion? I’d most cer­tain­ly rather write about pep­pi­er things.

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