Old Poems

I’ve always written poetry in notebooks. I still do. On the one hand, I love the tactile sensations of it. It feels like something that should be literally placed upon the page, word by word, though I wonder if a touchscreen and a stylus would be sufficient. On the other hand, if I want to do anything with it (like send it off to be published), I have to go back and transcribe all of it into a .doc file.

This is a pain in the ass.

Also, it has forced me to re-read some journals that I started over a decade ago, and I get to see how thoroughly shitty all of what I was writing actually was. I was hoping to mine these old poems for something useful, something that could be hacked and carved into something that would border on decent and publishable, but there’s just nothing there. At least in the notebook I’ve been combing today. It got so miserable that I just flipped to the back of the notebook, and decided to work my way back in time until I come to the point where I see my writing was too puerile and cliche ridden to be worth anything.

So, that’s been the revelation of my late afternoon. My early writing is thoroughly unusable crap. Oh well. At least it still exists as some sort of artistic archaeological artifact. When looking back, I don’t have to worry about gaps in the evolutionary chart. Everything is there. I saved every creature I have birthed, regardless of how malformed and ill-suited it may have been in its creation. At least I write better now. I hope.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s


%d bloggers like this: