12/6 (reacting to my old poetry)

Saturdays in quarantine are just so disappointing, honestly, like you don’t want to do school so you look forward to the weekend, and then once it gets there you’re just bored because there’s literally nothing to do.

God, what a depressing way to start today’s post.

I really contemplated just rambling about mental health today, just because I knew that’s definitely something that could fill a lot of page space. But I figured that if you’re bored in quarantine, the last thing you want to do is listen to some other person who feels the same way. I cleaned out my closet today and found last year’s box of notebooks. I’ve been writing stories and things like that for forever, but I only started writing poetry in July of 2019. I got my laptop last year for Christmas from my parents, so there was a long stretch of time there when I kept all my poems in hard copy notebooks. That went on until about March of this year, honestly. It just felt unnecessary to keep up. Anyway, I’ve got one and a half poetry books full and the first one is...rough.

I hope this makes you smile today. I know it made me crack a smile, and today was rough. Some days all you want to do is buy a nice purse (The Real Real is a godsend, I found it last week and maybe now I’ll finally be able to afford that Michael Kors bag I’ve been dreaming about since I was six) and lay in bed and cry. But remember: these days pass. Tomorrow might be better. Also, wait for that purse to go on sale lower--it’s not like you’re going anywhere.

Okay, let’s go.

Vsco girl

This is not the first poem I wrote. Unfortunately, I don’t have a copy of that. This is, however, the first one in the book, which means it’s the third or fourth. I remember being really proud of this one and actually giving it to the boy I liked at the time. But that’s another story for another time--if you want all my love stories as one of these days be sure to tell me down below.

This poem doesn’t have stanzas, so I’ll just stop it and talk when I feel it’s convenient I guess.

Caught between the worlds

of vintage and modern

and I’m not sure who

I should choose to be.

Hm. This feels...stoic. Like, it’s got an idea, but it isn’t really conveying it well. It’s blocky and very hard to read, like it kind of just feels like a block of text, and the fact that it’s supposed to make you feel something but doesn’t sticks out like a sore thumb.

Things seem to change so quickly

if I blink

it’s all suddenly different.

Nothing’s the same anymore

but my face hasn’t changed since

elementary school.

Something I really look for in poetry is a distinct sense of style. Even more important than that, an understanding of that techniquue. This was my third poem, so I obviously didn’t have that style that people recognize me by today, and I won’t hold that against younger me (though that’s why the poem feels that stoic-ness). But technique is also something I really don’t have a grasp on here, either.

Now, I’m seventeen years old. I’m in high school. I won’t pretend I’m a master at technique because I’m just not. However, looking at just these few lines I’m seeing the area I was especially unsure of was, more likely than not, punctuation. I can’t tell if I truly didn’t know though or if I was trying for a specific style, so can I just...I’ve seen this on prose and wtw as well--it’s okay to punctuate poems. it’s okay to use commas at the ends of lines. Punctuate the crap out of that baby, you’re not breaking any rules. I do write a lot now with different punctuation styles, and that’s cool to do as well, but I recommend learning to write poems with proper punctuation so at least you know it.

“Learn the rules like a pro so you can break the like an artist.” -Pablo Picasso

Tell me my aesthetic is old news

so I have to go find a new one

until that too is

today’s yesterday.

Filter my pictures and

filter my life.

“I’ve got more issues than

Vogue.”

Why do we say it? (Not sure, but I’ll say it too.)

Now I think we can all tell that this is where I really started to experiment. On one hand, I look at this and go hfygdjufkyflihatemyyoungerself but on another hand it’s kind of cute. Bad, yes. God, it’s awful. But it’s like watching a toddler finger paint. Messy, bad, a lot to pick up, but sweet.

That said: Notice how I decided to start varying line length here? Yeah, that can work sometimes if you do it right, but it’s hard and I just didn’t have the skill level at this point. Better luck next time, little Ri. Also, the quote. Putting a quote in a poem is something I’m still not exactly sure the rules on, but whether it’s writing faux pas or not, it is something that’s really, REALLY hard to do. I still can’t really do it and keep the flow of a poem. This feels so out of place--like, it’s not, the subject is fine, but it just feels wrong--and the way I put “Vogue” as its own line is just. Not a mood. And the parentheses? Well, I’m still a bit guilty of using too many parentheses, but these ones feel very heavy on the end of this line. They’re fine I suppose (like, there are worse things to worry about in this segment) but I say give them a line of their own.

People say I’m pretty

but I don’t know. If people were pretty

why would we need filters?

They call me basic,

a vsco girl.

When I try to be deep,

I fail.

It’s all meaningless.

I’ve trained myself

to be meaningless

and a fake

and a copy.

Huh. This honestly all feels...incredibly fake to me. Like I’m sure I felt some of this to an extent, but...I can’t really tell. Maybe I used too many cliches to make it feel like it’s actually a person’s feelings?

But on the other hand, now that I think of it, nobody in my entire life has called me basic. Vsco girl? Okay, yes maybe a little, but nobody’s called me that. That’s something I’ve done myself. Also, I never remember thinking people “needed” filters.

This is something I’ve learned in writing--if you don’t feel what you’re doing to some degree, it’ll show. Feel it. Own it. Don’t halfway do it, embrace the emotions. That’s one of the joys of writing and why it’s so therapeutic to so many people.

Whatever. (Not like I have

feelings. I don’t.)

As vsco would say,

Guess I’ll die then.

There I go again with the parentheses. Also, what’s inside them is just...r/imfourteenandthisisdeep, but I was actually fifteen. And where I broke that line feels really awkward. But I’ll give myself this--I kinda dig the snarkiness in the last line. That’s kind of cute.

All in all, this poem is...rough. If this wasn’t already bordering on 1500 words I’d try and rewrite it in my style today and with slightly better technique. Oh well, another project for another day, perhaps.

I hope you enjoyed this because I know I certainly did. I’d be more than willing to do another one of these or maybe make a throwback thursday series in the new year (hmmm...) but that’s all for now! Hope your day went well and thanks for hopping on the crazy train for day three with me. All the best Saturday night vibes to you.

xx- Riley