So I’ve been going through all my Twitter poems. I have a lot of them. Like, a lot. Like, I’ve stopped counting after I passed 80.
Some of them are shit. Some of them are pretty good, if I do say so myself.
I was thinking, at some point, of collecting the love poems to add to a collection of love poems that I’m putting together. A lot of the poems I’ve written are about love and not many of those pieces will be making it to Remnants: a collection and memoir and so I’m holding on to them for a possible second collection. I started writing some poems and not posting them up here so I have a couple of those that are hidden and never been published or read aloud.
When getting Remnants was taking too much time, I sent one of the poems, What You Do Not Know, to the Panorama and it got published. It was one of the better pieces of my supposed second collection of poems. That collection was supposed to include a section of all these Twitter poems that I wrote, micro-poems about love, and I was going to call it Love Bites.
But now, I’ve got so much and a lot of the good ones are not about love and now I’m thinking of scrapping the whole idea of putting that section there. I’m thinking that maybe I can prepare a sort of chapbook of short pieces that I can just put out. Maybe it’s even a free chapbook I can put out online to help get people interested.
I’m just thinking of the possibilities. I have over 80 to choose from. I can still prepare a shorter Love Bites section in the collection of love poems. The title, I’m thinking, will be The Stain of Love, which is the title of one of the pieces I wrote last year and is the first poem I wrote that I didn’t preview here in the blog. I have been working on it on my own and with no version of it available anywhere. It’s my first work that’s truly just mine until it comes out and I’m kind of proud of it.
I started doing the micro-poems after reading Jane Hirschfeld’s Heart of the Haiku as a means of an exercise to practice brevity. Say only what needs to be said. Be terse. Be precise. Be specific. Don’t expound. Don’t drag out your feelings. Contain it and just make the words that are present so powerful that it doesn’t have to be long. Trim the fat, as I always say when I’m editing a work.
Sometimes, it leads to magnificent results. A lot of times, the work is shit.
But the exercise helps. It has made me a better writer and a better editor. I can spot an unnecessary word or sentence right off the bat. Usually in other people’s writing, not in mine. I write too fast and usually don’t have time to edit (that’s a bad thing, I know, I am working on that) but when I do have time to edit my work, it comes into play so strongly.
I’ve also been writing poems in my Instagram and since they aren’t constrained by a character limit, I can go longer with these poems, but the exercise there is to write something that is inspired by the image that I put. At first, the poem doesn’t work without the image but as I got more and more used to the exercise, I’ve extended myself that the poem has to be inspired by the photo but should be able to stand on its own even without the image.
I think my poems in my Instagram are way stronger. I want to compile those as well.
The second book is practically ready, if I wasn’t feeling so uncomfortable with the fact that many of the pieces have already been “published” in their original forms. Of course, I will still do a lot of editing and fine tuning but I don’t start writing a piece until I’ve played it out in my head for a long while.
But the books are coming together. There’s a third (or is it fourth?) also on the works but this is a totally alien and foreign concept for me and a style that I’m still learning. More on that soon. Let me just get the first one out and deal with the whole ordeal that it is going to be.
This is completely not how I thought being a poet would be. This is not how I thought making a career out of poetry was going to be. I’m not against it. I am just navigating through very unknown territory and it excites me and scares me. I’ve been saying it a lot but there’s no other way, really, to express how I feel about this whole endeavour.
It’s happening. I’ve worked for this my whole life. It’s finally happening.