I'm trying hard not to look back at what I've posted so far, not to judge and compare each piece, but I can't seem to help it. The danger of doing it is that it can be tantamount to writing an engraved invitation to writer's block, but it can also open your eyes to bad writing habits you need to break, weaknesses you need to overcome, etc.
So far, two things of which I've become acutely aware are that my imagery could stand to be more subtle yet stronger and that the meter and cadence of my lines truly suck. To remedy the former, I know I need to use less obvious and more vivid and evocative language. Fixing the latter is going to prove to be a challenge though. I look forward to analyzing that problem a little more closely when I evaluate all 30 of these poems at the end of the month. Lord knows what else I'll discover in the process . . . .
As the season changes -
A tap on the shoulder - you turn
Over the soil, and the earth starts
To crawl. Evicted but not put out,
The pill bugs get straight to work navigating
The new terrain. Things that could have been
Much worse are fine. In the fetal position,
They still find good shelter. When we move,
I hope to remember this.
To read other poems or poetry-related posts on this blog, click here.