My fictional self
Ok, so I wrote another poem yesterday and I kind of like it :)
And, I'm starting to notice a new freedom in my writing.
Whereas - in the past I would simply write the truth, things I'm feeling, experiencing, living, ect, I'm starting to now write more freely. I'm getting better at putting myself in fictional scenarios, morphing my everyday experiences into something more meaningful, interesting, poetic.
Its actually quite inspiring - to write lies.
But also, at the same time - I wonder how much of what I write people end up thinking is my actual experience? For example, if I write a poem about affairs, will people automatically assume that I've been a particpant? How scary to think... that yes maybe they will.
My mom seems to think that poems must be autobiographical. And I'm guilty of it too. When I go to an open mic, I judge. I think to myself - wow - that lady's done THAT? Pretty ballzy.
Like Kim Addonizio. Her poems are so no nonsense, sexy, dealing with drug use, drinking, the whole nine yards. I've built up this persona of her in my head, as like this modern sexy lady version of Kerouac, creating a seductive tornado around her every where she goes. But um... she's probabably ACTUALLY nothing like the persona in her poems... right?
I'll use myself as an example. I write about sex. Alot. About female sensuality, permiscuity, taboos... you name it! But... lol... I have the most vanilla sex life in the world. I'll admit it. But maybe people think I'm some kind of strange fetish lady when I read my sexy feet/fruit/cake/car/shoe/coffee cup poems.
Who knows.
Anyway, on that note - a piece of my latest creation.
Now comes the shirt, the jeans, the bra,
the panties, all tossed into a corpselike
pile - a tiny monument.
The toothless smile of satisfaction – rose
across her dimpled abdomen. Her breasts
hang above, the heads of a widows in prayer.
And no, not me - I've never stripped. Nor do I have a scar riding across my abdomon from a tummy tuck or c-section. Nor do my boobs sag (promise)
LoL. Ok, enough for today. before I write something true.
And, I'm starting to notice a new freedom in my writing.
Whereas - in the past I would simply write the truth, things I'm feeling, experiencing, living, ect, I'm starting to now write more freely. I'm getting better at putting myself in fictional scenarios, morphing my everyday experiences into something more meaningful, interesting, poetic.
Its actually quite inspiring - to write lies.
But also, at the same time - I wonder how much of what I write people end up thinking is my actual experience? For example, if I write a poem about affairs, will people automatically assume that I've been a particpant? How scary to think... that yes maybe they will.
My mom seems to think that poems must be autobiographical. And I'm guilty of it too. When I go to an open mic, I judge. I think to myself - wow - that lady's done THAT? Pretty ballzy.
Like Kim Addonizio. Her poems are so no nonsense, sexy, dealing with drug use, drinking, the whole nine yards. I've built up this persona of her in my head, as like this modern sexy lady version of Kerouac, creating a seductive tornado around her every where she goes. But um... she's probabably ACTUALLY nothing like the persona in her poems... right?
I'll use myself as an example. I write about sex. Alot. About female sensuality, permiscuity, taboos... you name it! But... lol... I have the most vanilla sex life in the world. I'll admit it. But maybe people think I'm some kind of strange fetish lady when I read my sexy feet/fruit/cake/car/shoe/coffee cup poems.
Who knows.
Anyway, on that note - a piece of my latest creation.
Now comes the shirt, the jeans, the bra,
the panties, all tossed into a corpselike
pile - a tiny monument.
The toothless smile of satisfaction – rose
across her dimpled abdomen. Her breasts
hang above, the heads of a widows in prayer.
And no, not me - I've never stripped. Nor do I have a scar riding across my abdomon from a tummy tuck or c-section. Nor do my boobs sag (promise)
LoL. Ok, enough for today. before I write something true.
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