Sunday, August 11, 2013

365 Poems: The prose and the poem, the line and the lyric

Day 223

Regular readers, meaning me, know that this 365 Poems project started out as a wildly optimistic idea by this blogger that I could write and post a poem every day. Extremely misguided.

What's it's morphed into is that I post SOMETHING everyday, and try to be poetic about it. (Being SEO-minded, I kept the tag.)

Some days are better than others.

Creepy selfie with Johnny Tincap
My post of yesterday, for example, descended into hyperlocal journalism. When I hit the 'Publish' button, it wasn't a post I felt particularly good about; rather, it was a 'Well, I got something up, so there's Day 222.' That, dear reader, was a prose day, a get-some-lines-down-with-maybe-a-picture kind of day, a day I wished I was more disciplined, better, more focused, more anything kind of day. Even so bad that people would make fun of me and I'd become one of these memes you read about on Buzzfeed, like 'worst blogger in the world!' headlines.

Not really, no, I don't want to be that bad.

Because I've written about being brave, how being a blogger means you have even just a little bit of courage to set your blog to 'public' and then hit 'publish' so someone besides yourself and the spambots can read that post. Whether it stinks or not, or is poetic or not, is lame or not.

Because there are other days when maybe there really is a poem, or part of a poem, and I realize I may be the only person in Fort Wayne, Indiana, who even tried to write like that.

And the days I feel better about what I've posted -- some days it's that poem, some days a really cool video I've found (like about the visual poems), or a book of poetry I've found that seems intriguing, or  some history or audio or whatever about a favorite poet or a new poet or writer. Those days, when I hit the button, it's such a different feeling, almost like being high, that deserved or not, it's what keeps me counting off the days on my calendar and keeping the 'public' box checked in my settings.

I've also written about how I love Twitter, how sometimes I feel I was born to tweet, and how thoroughly stupid that sounds. Yet there's something in the disciple of Twitter, of fitting what I want to say -- whether it's something original, or about a link, or an observation -- into 140 characters, that reminds me of the editing and revising process of writing a poem with form -- sonnet, haiku, cinquain, whatever. And now there's a stretch: 'The Poetry of Social Media.' Which might be a post for another day.

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