My home

Ah, I feel so warm and cuddly. This is where I generally lay down a hefty rant. My rant of sorts today is the happy poetry space created for joy, joy moments. I can't take it anymore! Listen to me, it's the second week of school and already I am melt down mama. Already, I know that tomorrow I am going to have to figure out how to disconnect my spaces. Silly me, that is what I get for popping up a blog so quickly. I really should have thought that one through more.

It's all phooey if you ask me. How can a person possibly be asked to talk about questions you may have and issues about your poetry without talking about things you've workshopped in class? It is impossible and I revolt. I don't revolt as in not do the assignment revolt but I revolt here. I listened while my poem was talked about and everyone individually hit on points that were so the intention of the poem. My bad for working out my own issues. I was so proud of that poem it represented every pent up non-poetic moment of my entire summer. People need ties it seems though, they need neat connect the dots that lead them from point A to point B.

I'll add the lines to make people happy and comfortable but it taints everything. I love this one, giving that connection between how when a person dies you immediately go back to a particular moment with that person. Yeah, try being that six year old little girl that busted her chin on the monkey-bars. That WAS the moment. I can't help it if by circumstance that that is how I will always remember Nita. Mother and I lamented with the same memory of Nita. I am just disgruntled that I have to come out and say, she was sixteen years younger than me and though we were ONLY related by marriage, I watched that little girl grow up. So I did all the right things in the poem but just didn't spell it out quite so clearly by saying something like...

sister-in-law, sixteen years my junior

Now the whole Lily thing, problematic I know but in some betwixt way one of my fellow students got it. How do you change knowing that someone got it but then consider scrapping it because they think they don't get it. He TOTALLY nailed it. How do you keep that straight face knowing that people have gotten it but in that same assessment they are saying that they don't get it.

I just had been so closed off because of the Nita thing and I finally breached that barrier only not to be able to talk about it. I would have been more comfortable if everyone would have said they didn't get it. This one kills, the beginning sounds like a newspaper or the TV news. Yeah and we saw the crumpled car on the news, channel 2, 6, 7 and 12. We listened to her name when they said two died in wreck.

This leaves me in the unknown zone. I've pretty much already resolved that I am going to leave the Nita poem alone because it is much too painful to revisit knowing that people got it but not being able to say a darn thing on the 'fake poetry place' created as the unused living room where guests come to sit but the family never uses. I hate my poetry place.