I dug up another one of my old poems for this week's TBT poetry post!
Our Fat, Fat Fingers (2009) That September. Do you remember Ben Folds Five and then Just Ben, Quiet feelings and Coffee colored evenings? Our fingers got fat From playing piano, Callused and fat From music and writing. Do you remember? I could say nothing And be something! I’d whisper and ears Would shift like a cat’s. Do you remember? Do you remember that September Feeling the autumn chill Creep over the lake and Crawl between our fingers, Our fat, fat callused fingers That said everything so Our mouths didn’t have to? My Thoughts Today: While 2009 isn't all that long ago, I felt compelled to choose this one because of the late September, chilly autumn vibe. Unlike last week, I do remember what I was writing about here and it is fitting for me to post this on a throwback Thursday because I was writing about my memories of being in high school. In 2009, I was living in Chicago and struggling to find good jobs. I had just returned to the States from Mexico and I felt really lost. Reverse culture shock is a real thing that not many people talk about. So, in this poem I was reminiscing about high school and, I believe, I really conveyed how much I missed that time. The reason why I missed that time was because, during that time, I was so free to be creative. I played piano and flute, I wrote poetry, I read for fun, I even drew and painted. After college, it seems like all of that sort of disappeared. When you're working or looking for work, you don't have time to just pick up the flute and play and, furthermore, it is not likely that you can fit (or afford) a piano in your studio apartment. The pressures that come with being in your 20s really wore on me and I felt like I couldn't be me when I was unable to truly be creative. Obviously, I found a way regardless. I have a ton of poems from this time in my life. They are written on napkins, on the back of receipts and in these tiny little notebooks I used to carry in my purse. And, when I read these poems now, it almost seemed like I was fighting for it, struggling to hold on to one creative pursuit from my teenage years. Another thing that struck me about this poem is that, without thinking of it, I wrote a short story that mirrors this sentiment just last year called "Für Elise". It is clear I still long for those carefree, creative days of my past, but now I'm expressing it in different ways. Instead of bearing that weight entirely on my shoulders, I shared it with a character and that feels right, too. Now that I'm taking a look back at these old poems, I am beginning to see certain themes in my writing as well as things that I have allowed to evolve. And that's really cool. Leave a Reply. |
Rachel Boury BaxterWriter: web content by day, fiction by night. Archives
October 2016
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