OK, so there are two reasons I chose Mr. Oscar Wilde as this week’s wisdom giver:
1. I had to go with an Irish writer being that this week’s post falls on St. Patrick’s Day because, well, duh.
2. Whether it’s long, dark poems in my trusty black-and-white speckled marble notebook or dark haikus and tankas in my speckled teal notebook, I have been finding myself writing more and more poetry lately.
While I’ve always written such poems, I’m churning some out on an almost-daily basis. It’s been a pleasant surprise, especially considering that when the going gets tough in my life, I’ve always turned straight to my journal to make sense of it all.
That’s not the case this time around as I’ve been dealing with seemingly never-ending health shit etc. and so forth, and while I’ve generally tried to keep my spirits high, shit’s been dark on the page, real dark.
Minus the sarcasm and perennial RBF, I’ve always prided myself on being generally happy-go-lucky off-paper, so it’s not a complete shock for my on-paper writing to be dark, but the shock has been how much I’ve loved writing poetry lately.
So much so that I’m thisclose to considering a poetry-writing class to build up the cojones to workshop my past and current poems and attend — and maybe (gulp) participate in — a poetry reading. As someone who’s been a professional writer for more than a decade, it might come as a surprise to find that when it comes to my personal work — as in not writing from an interview or feature or news story — I am ridiculously private and shy. The thought of getting up to read in front of others gives me the heebie jeebies, but it’s time I overcome because I think some of these recent poems could be something. Maybe.
And those that aren’t, well, I’ll let Mr. Wilde give his thoughts on them.
“All bad poetry springs from genuine feeling.”