5 Reasons I Like This Poem I Wrote
One of the self-professed reasons for this blog’s existence is that it gives me a reason to practice writing, which I love to do, and a constant push to share that writing in public, which I don’t love to do. Now that I’ve written a few things I like, and hope to write more of them, I want to be more brave about sharing.
I have only really ever publicly shared journalistic writing and marketing copy—anything more creative or personal in nature I’ve only let a handful of people read, or I’ve written it and hid it away, or more often I’ve thought of an idea then stopped myself before doing much of anything because I didn’t think it was good enough. Recently I’ve committed to writing more with no expectations, just because I like to, and that has been a huge positive.
One of the things I like to write is poetry. Poetry is the thing I want to share the least, so I’m leaning in—here's a poem I wrote about the eternal conflict of creative expression vs. self-doubt, plus 5 things I like about it to give you some behind the scenes, and give me a self high five:
“Once in a Sycamore I was glad”
I know someone else wrote that line, but it's so good.
Go ahead, read it again. I'll wait …
Good, yes? Great, honestly.
In fact, go ahead and read the whole poem. I'll wait …
https://poets.org/poem/dream-song-1
Isn't that better than anything I can write?
Probably, yes? Yes, honestly.
But of the two of us, I'm the only one still here, so …
I guess I shouldn’t wait anymore.
1. The Inspiration
I was reading John Berryman’s “Dream Song 1” and was struck by a feeling of such awe at how simply reading the seven words “Once in a Sycamore I was glad” produced in me an overwhelming sense of melancholy and nostalgia, even though I couldn’t identify a Sycamore tree if you paid me. The line does a fantastic job of establishing a tangible moment in time. Suddenly, and without warning, I turned that awe against myself and began thinking about how I could never write something that good. Then, I started writing about that feeling.
2. The Form
I liked playing with how you literally have to read this poem. For example, the second line asks you to jump out of order and read the title again before coming back to your place. You can do that, or you can ignore it and keep reading it in order like a typical poem. It’s up to you!
The fifth line is a URL. It assumes that you have Internet access to immediately stop and read Berryman’s (better) poem that I reference, and sets up the ever-present possibility that you’ll enter an online rabbit hole that derails you. I’m basically indulging my own self-doubt by giving you an opportunity not to finish my poem, or to finish it but agree with me that I don’t measure up.
Best of all, to me, is that by itself as an actual line in the poem, the URL doesn’t make any sense and would be gibberish to anyone who lived pre-Internet. Since you do know what it means, you have the choice to click on it or type it in and read the poem or not—maybe you’re a genius who has the poem memorized already, or maybe you never click on it and you have no idea what I’m referencing. If you do click on it, well now the experience of reading my poem contains the experience of reading this famous poem, in my mind boosting the quality of your reading experience and potentially distracting you from my work.
It’s like self-doubt Judo.
3. The Backstory
Wikipedia says, “John Allyn McAlpin Berryman (born John Allyn Smith, Jr.; October 25, 1914 – January 7, 1972) was an American poet and scholar. He was a major figure in American poetry in the second half of the 20th century and is considered a key figure in the ‘confessional’ school of poetry. His best-known work is The Dream Songs.”
The song “Stuck Between Stations” by The Hold Steady was my first introduction to the story of John Berryman:
After that I went out and got a copy of The Dream Songs and loved so much of it while also not understanding so much more of it. I did my best to make sense of it then, and I’m still doing that every time I revisit it.
Also, believe it or not, there’s another song about John Berryman that I love—it’s called “John Allyn Smith Sails” by Okkervil River, and it closes with an all-time musical reference to the Beach Boys:
4. The Questions and Answers
I had a good time using a little call and response to invite some participation while also giving you a bit of the internal monologue that’s running through my head as I write. I’m basically asking you self-deprecating leading questions, preempting your option to theoretically say, “Actually, I like your poems Jed.” Whereas I’m open to the possibility that we both think John Berryman writes great poems in line 3, I am not allowing for that possibility in myself in lines 6 and 7. I think assuming the worst of what other people will say without allowing them the chance to say anything at all is the essence of self-doubt.
5. The Conclusion
While the poem started as me exploring some insecurities, the process of writing it took me to the conclusion in lines 8 and 9. Yes, John Berryman was an amazing poet, but he died in 1972 and is not going to be writing any new poems going forward. So, technically, any time I write one thing I’m a “better” poet than him on that given day, and the only thing ever stopping me is myself. These lines are a constant call for me to remove all of this judgment and just try.
What do you like to do? Do you ever stop yourself because you think you aren’t good enough? Is there anything that you’re proud of that you haven’t shared? I’d love to talk to you about it!
Also, don’t forget to channel your inner DDP with a self high five today.
