I chose these poems for fairly straightforward reasons. The first one works well as an introduction, a way to tell the reader about myself. That seems like a good way to begin a collection of poetry, even a small one. The sonnet is there for several reasons. I taught myself to write Italian sonnets when I got bored in my eighth grade English class. They are a specialty of mine, something I can do well every time. One form poem was required, and sonnets are my workhorses. They are good, reliable poems for making good grades, getting into anthologies and doing well in contests. Also, if the first poem is like a title page and an introduction, the second is a dedication. In Stephen King's book On Writing, he talks about having a constant reader, someone one imagines peering over one's shoulder as one writes. Mine happens to be a tuba, a seventeen-year-old Mirafone 186 named Aria. I write a lot of poems about the tubas I meet, but the bulk, and best, of them are about Aria, the one with which I have fallen in love.
Poem number three is a limerick. Like most limericks, it is a fun, jokey poem. It did not fit with the much darker tone of the longer poems, so I separated it from them by sandwiching it between the beginning and the fourth poem, which I put in that place because it has notes of fun and disappointment, making it an easy segue into the two long, sad poems that comprise the story I want to tell. Both three and four were chosen to show my versatility. The fifth was chosen because it has tension. That is where I begin the story, fragments and glimpses of the events that brought me to Decatur High. Last year was a time of great upheaval at my old school. Some people did benefit from the changes, but most of us lost much more than we gained. I took a look at one person's tale of woe. This gives the reader the background of the story that is told from a much more personal angle in poem number six. Five and six are about the same people and things, and I am the speaker in both. Six is more about me, and more about emotions, while five is a catalog of events that is far more about the other party concerned. The seventh poem finishes the journey, taking the reader to a place where a hurting, grieving speaker finds some healing and renewal. It resolves the tension in five and six and rounds out the collection like the last song in a set, tying up as many loose ends as is possible in writing truthfully about a real human life.
I thought about several project ideas. My first plan was to bind a book by hand, but I have less than two hundred lines here. It seemed like hardly enough material to fill a pamphlet. Then I thought about a poetry door and realized I have no idea where to buy a used door in Decatur. The idea of a window also seemed attractive, but materials were equally elusive. I thought about covering a cloak in the words, but it would either involve long, painful hours of writing by hand for me or a lot of boring dictation for anyone I could talk into helping. I would also have to buy enough cloth to make one. A fabric store is another thing I have yet to find. In the end, I decided the blog was the best option. It presented an interesting challenge. Believe it or not, I have never presented my work digitally before. I type everything and often store my work on computers, but I have always printed it out to turn it in. I spent the better part of a weekend looking for a good template. Finding the pictures took more time and effort. Then there were the challenges of formatting on Blogger. My lines jumped around every time I tried to use spell check. It was a good experience and I am glad I chose to do the project this way, though, given more time and some art supplies, I might have made something more tangible.