That’s right.
It’s April, and that means we’re back to NaPoWriMo. The last time I did this monthlong poetry fest I was in China with a hefty amount of free time on my hands. Now I’m back in the States, and my time is still technically equal to what it was. Except, of course, for the longer list of things to do.
I’m excited to try it again, and I hope you, my audience, enjoys what happens when a poet must write everyday. Though if I’m being honest, I started a day early. 2.1 was written on March 31st. Yesterday’s post – which I’m posting below – is more about the process than just a poem.
Because truth be told, it’s been a rougher time for this poetess. I expect these rougher times are going to manifest themselves in my writing. I’d hope this wouldn’t upset you, but since I’m writing for me…
**** 2.2 ****
Parodies of Sad
I got a lot of positive response to my last poem, which I find interesting. Sadness- that is, writing from sadness, often garners attention because it is real. Happiness is harder to grab, harder to express without sounding trite. Sadness can veer into the melodramatic, but even in melodrama it hits a strange echo in us. Like the proper vibration to break a glass, different emotions resonate on different frequencies.
In my moments of sadness, I tend to write parodies and sing songs that sound vaguely like Garrison Keillor’s song poems from “A Prairie Home Companion”.
For example, I am still in the doldrums, so I came up with this parody of a song that I like to sing in general, “Let’s Have another Cup of Coffee, and Let’s Have another Piece of Pie:”
Oh life is just a bloody circle
We live and eventually we die
So let’s spike another cup of coffee,
And fuck it – just eat up all the pie
It’s true when bad things happen
People don’t want you to cry
So let’s spike another cup of coffee
And fuck it – just eat up all the pie
There’s a hole in my umbrella
And the storms come rollin’ in
It’s hard to keep on trying
When you never seem to win
I wonder if God chuckles
When he hears me asking why?
So let’s spike another cup of coffee
And fuck it – just eat up all the pie
—
It’s dramatic and sad, sure. But there’s something to be said for letting yourself wallow in words that make you feel better. Like teenagers listening to moody music. In my case, I listen to an old album “Songs of the Great Depression.” I guess, when I contemplate all the horrible things I’ve seen, and the myriad things which are worse which I have not seen, it helps to put things in perspective. Of a sort. Perspective is a terrible thing sometimes.
