I ended up going through some of my old poetry, including some that was previously published, both for personal purposes and for a contest that I was going to enter.
A fun time was not had.
Like. Okay. So. That’s a little dramatique.
I know I am not the only writer, artist, anyone actually, that looks back at previous work and feels some sort of way. Like legitimately looks at it and is like “what was I thinking?” or “yikes,” or even a “lmao i was on some shit.” Part of me cringes and another part is like “we were onto something,” and I’m not sure how to even put that experience into words, it’s so weird to look back upon.
(Of course, I’m sure some better writers than myself have done it successfully, but I don’t have the energy to deep dive into the depths of writing/poetic theory because nooo~)
And, as I wait for my copy of Gilgamesh to get here, I find myself centering on myself as a creative writer, as opposed to the scholarly version of myself I usually focus on. Like, what is my style? What is my message? Do I have common phrases and images? Do I use those effectively? Is this poem good or is it trash?
It was not a fun time. But it was a constructive time. As I sink into the depths of my masters program, especially after the severe phases of the COVID-19 pandemic1, I find myself ignoring the poetic side of myself, pushing it aside to focus on literature as a spectator, not as a writer. And now, that I’m mining for that specific creative energy inside my brain, I’m searching for my old poems and yikes.
I mean, I was good, no doubt about that. Like, poetry on point! It’s more like…I’m just realizing that in 2022, I am better. I made artistic and aesthetic choices that I would never even consider now. Theoretically, as an artist, you know that you grow, you know that the ugly parts of your art are stepping stones to the artist you become, but sometimes you realize that those stepping stones were gross and you want to repave them, you know? Instead of a river rock, you want something in a nice rustic red with a machine-stamped pattern. Maybe, just some nice porcelain tiles in a cute walkway?
Stepping stones are so declassé.
You stepped on the stones to get where you are and now you want to forget them! Fuck those stones! You’re a bougie bitch now, and you only step on paved walkways in your garden of creativity!
Those stones are Walmart and you only shop at Target.
Anyway, ignoring the fact that my metaphor got away from me, the stepping stones symbolize who you were, not who you are. But overall, understanding how you got from cheap stones to porcelain tiles is important. And that’s where I’m stuck, but like in a good way.
My poetry now is so much better in a rather amazing way. I had not understood my own growth as a creative until I compared my 2011 published poems to my rejected 2018 poems and my work-in-progress 2022 work. This triangulation is pregnant with possibility and in need of a paternity test2. There is so much to learn about my own journey, so much to identify within one’s own work, that it’s honestly staggering.
I have grown so much, and I adore it.
I want to clarify—the poems are not bad! Some of these can definitely be dusted off and edited to submit tomorrow. However, the quality of the work I was producing in 2013 vs Now is significant and, in this long-winded post, I’m saying that it is so important to remember that journey.
So, to take my metaphor by the horns, I can’t ignore my stepping stones. Instead, after tiling everything down, I’ll take those stones and put them in a different part of my garden. Remind myself of them on occasion.
Maybe I’ll edit them, maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll wrote a play or something else based on them. Maybe I’ll just keep those ugly poems of mine on my bookshelf and, when I’m comparing my amazing 2026 work to my shitty 2022 poetry, and to my rejected 2018 poems, I’ll look back and break these cute little stepping stones out.
First, the pandemic is not over. Like, Miss Rona is still here. Second, who had the time to be productive during the early pandemic? If you did, I need you to understand that you are a freak of nature and that I am incredibly jealous. #cry
Now, my references have joined my metaphors and running away from meee.
Ye for me, I straight up rewrote some old stuff but other old stuff I was like naaaah. The way I decided what to update and what to abandon was if the maturity/outlook could be salvaged hahaha