I love reading and writing just seemed to be a natural extension of that. As a student of literature I’ve had numerous experiences with great writings, brilliant professors and excellent English Literature courses. Unfortunately, by the time I completed my bachelor’s degree in Literatures in English I could no longer write – anything. All that was left to me was writing in my diary.
The main reason for this was a creative poetry writing class that I took in my sophomore year.
My professor, Mr. Brown is an archaic poet – and friends with the Caribbean noble prize winner for Literature, Derek Walcott. Mr. Walcott is without a doubt a brilliant poet, however I am generally not a fan of his ostentatious dated European style of writing. While I appreciate his work and I enjoy reading the structured meters of classical poetry; I have no desire to write like that. This was something that my professor just could not understand. He turned the simple joy of writing into a – writing by number methodology of strict iambic pentameters and the like.
My professor is also an arrogant self-important man who hated to be challenged. All qualities that are like red flags to the raging bull of my personality. So of course – we did not get along and I ultimately failed his course – which was most distressing since I had failed no other course. The man even had the nerve to suggest that I should concentrate on writing prose as poetry was not for me. When I say ‘suggest’ I mean that those were his exact words.
I tried not to let it affect me but it did and I had not written another poem, since that incident/course – until a few weeks ago, when I started to write this blog. Just the act of writing reminded me of just how much I enjoyed writing poetry. For me poetry doesn’t have to be written in a specific style.
I write poetry primarily for oration and it is influenced by the rhythm of my speech.
My poetry is therefore what I like to call “an expression of feeling in stylized speech” 🙂 It doesn’t have to be “good” it’s personal. It is inspired by my realities and my dreams – and to think that I nearly let that man destroy that for me *sigh
Question: Aren’t teachers suppose to guide and direct, not browbeat and bamboozle?