It was fascination; or, On Writing the Same Damn Poems Over and Over Again

I was feeling rather smug about having a new collection of poems for which I could start gathering rejection letters, until I realized that at least 10 of the poems in the 50 poem collection seem to be the same damn poem over and over again.

Yes, they differ in imagery and rhythm and movement, but they land in the same place, with they same no-duh realization.

I know I often feel like I’m writing the same poem over and over, but to have it so plainly in my face is, well, annoying.

I thought I could get clever and tried to turn one poem on it’s head, so it at least STARTED in the same damn place but ended someplace else, but I wasn’t fooled by my trick.

It’s funny, of course, because I hadn’t realized how obsessed I’d been. But clearly I’ve got issues. Or one issue, anyway.

How many such poems can a collection can get away with having? Two? Three? Four if I hide them throughout and distract the reader with shiny objects?

I don’t know. Is it so wrong to be frankly obsessed with the same idea? I mean I am climbing the same mountain yes, but it is indeed by different routes.

It’s not wrong, I guess; it’s just boring.

Well, I’m staring at them all now to see who gets to stay and who gets tossed off the island.

And if I’m going to do what I can to get obsessed with something ELSE.

One thought on “It was fascination; or, On Writing the Same Damn Poems Over and Over Again

  1. Pingback: Poetry Blog Digest 2020, Week 29 – Via Negativa

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