A Poet & Mom

Reading the work of certain writers inspires me. Anne Sexton is one of them, always, always. I am not depressed or suicidal, although there have been times in my life when my poetry was an outlet of my romantic misery. (A long time ago. And generally not bad poetry, either.) These days, I write in spurts-- I'll read something interesting, I'll have a week or two off from work during winter or summer break and I'll write. It's not something I have a ton of time to do all the time. When I focus, I can write things I truly like.

Apparently, I am not the type of poems that "literary" journals-- at least not the ones I have submitted to-- like, though. There's nothing wrong with writing just for my own pleasure, but it is nice to be validated. I haven't tried all that hard in the years since my graduation from college when I sent out about ten poems to as many literary journals and got nothin' except a comment from a former professor that he would have thought about publishing my work if I hadn't been such a recent grad of that university. (Anti inbreeding policy, apparently).

Anyway. Reading Adrienne Rich theory because I'm doing a lecture on her next week in my American Lit class and it does amaze me that even now, even 40 years after her struggles with writing and being a mom & wife some of the issues/problems or concerns or pitfalls are still. exactly. the. same.

Anyway. I have a nice warm fire, and I'm going to grab a glass of wine and go read some of that inspirational poetry in front of that fire. For the first time in weeks I don't have a TON of work for school to do (that will change tomorrow when I get a bunch of research papers in). So one night of relaxing without guilt while the kiddos watch Wall-E.