No psychoanalyzing Allowed
Poetry is not for wimps. Poetry is an impassioned moment. A solid, pure, feeling - whether it be joy, hope, or pissedoffness. Many of my poems concentrate on discontent, even anger and frustration at being a mother, wife, a woman. Does this mean I live in a constant state of resentment? Absolutely not. Does it mean I hate all men? No, in fact I have always loved the opposite gender a little too much. Does it mean I don't love and appreciate my family? Hell no! In fact, I'm happy I got to stay home with my three kids and watch them grow. 24/7.
Except, I'd be lying if I claimed to never have felt extreme frustration or anger. Question why the hell I flushed a career down the toilet in exchange for scrubbing toilets? Especially when one after another kid came down with the pukes, or when my teenager mumbled too many times about "you people", or when that same kid at 5 years old had a screaming fit, kicking and spinning in a demented breakdance on a store floor, over The Puffball Girls Kill Santa Claus or some such movie that I held strong to my "no" but loose on my sanity. Even when things were calm, the mundaneness of the stay-at-home experience can build up to smother you...that same mundaneness that I would bet just about everyone has experienced at some point in their lives, whatever career path they chose.
If I wrote about my general everyday feelings my poetry would sound something like this:
I love my children dearly. They bring me such joy but every once in awhile I get very frustrated, but I still love them very much! Don't get me wrong, It's ok. I'll get over it in like 5 minutes but for those 5 minutes please don't talk, touch or look at me. I'll be locked in the bathroom pretending to poo poo.
Pretty blah, huh? Poetry shouldn't bore you to death. It should punch you breathless with the power of a moment - whether that moment is joyful, heart-wrenching, or pissed. A feeling that the reader can connect to. Relate to, because emotions are universal. Poetry only does its job when it makes the reader feel something. And, ho hum doesn't count.
