Writing a Poem a Day and Learning to Let Go

April is National Poetry Month. Writer’s Digest is sponsoring a Poem A Day Challenge, and I decided to participate. I have wanted to do the challenge in the past, but worried I wouldn’t be able to commit the time.

But lately, I have carved out more time for writing. I joined a new writing group and have a new writing partner. I entered some new contests and submitted more flash fiction and poetry. And as always, school is keeping me busy with writing projects.

So I am writing more. And it feels great. I know this is what I need to, if I want to be a successful writer. The rejections still sting, but it is all a part of the process. Not too sound hokey, but I have to be willing to fail, if I am going to succeed.

Back to the Poem A Day Challenge, the first day I struggled for about 3 hours to get a poem down on the page. When I write, I edit as I go, so I tend to write very slowly. But after the first day, I realized there was no way I would survive the whole month, if I was torturing myself like that. So I have been trying to let go a little, to not edit so much as I write. There is always time to go back and change things. Not every poem I write this month is going to be a winner. Sometimes you just need to write the words and move on to something else.

Here is my Day 6 poem. The prompt was to “write a things-not-as-they-appear poem.” You can view the prompt and other poet’s poems here: http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/2015-april-pad-challenge-day-6

Note: If you know me very well, you know Pretty in Pink is my favorite movie. This is my poem homage.

The Unbreakable Molly Ringwald

I am Molly Ringwald today, all awkward cute
with a penchant for pink. The red haired rules I break
as I saunter, daring Duckie to avoid admiring me.
He can’t, of course. I crush his tiny Duck heart in my pale fist.
I only have eyes for Blane. He may be a richie, but he’s not ruthless like
Steph, who smokes cigarettes in stairwells and oozes sex and sloth.
Blane is sweet but weak. He is be cowed by Steph, corralled
back into that rich boy pen. But I am cut from a different cloth,
one of pink polka dots. As I design my dress,
I know tonight they won’t see me fall.
Tonight I will not be something they can break.

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