How Writing Poetry Is Like…Wearing A Swimsuit? | Writer’s Relief
Ronnie L. Smith
Writer's Relief: Helping creative writers find literary agents or get published in literary journals
You feel a bit exposed and anxiously wonder what people will think…and the sand is itchy. Are you debuting your latest swimsuit? No, you’re writing poetry (in this case, on the beach)! At Writer’s Relief, we’ve reviewed thousands of poems and have some great advice that can help you write better poetry. Grab a beach towel, some sunscreen, and your favorite notebook—let’s talk about how writing poetry is like wearing a swimsuit!
4 Ways Writing Poetry Is Like Wearing A Swimsuit
You can try different styles.?Some swimsuits are modest, while others leave little to the imagination. And the fabrics come in stripes, polka dots, neon colors, or basic solids—just to name a few options! In the same way you express your personality with a swimsuit, you can reveal a lot or a little of your emotions in your poetry. You might share the details of your innermost personal journey in?confessional poetry, or write about a current topic you’re passionate about. You can write haiku, a sonnet, or free verse. But how much of yourself you reveal in your poetry is up to you.
Here’s a list of different poetic tools, devices, and techniques you can also try on for size:?The 17 Poetry Tools Free Verse Poets Should Master.
You might feel vulnerable.?It’s hard to hide in a swimsuit, and it can be just as hard to put your writing out there for others to see. What if no one likes your poems? Worrying about what people might say could keep your polka-dot bikini or lobster-patterned swim trunks wrapped in a beach towel, and the fear of rejection can make some poets reluctant to submit their work to literary journals for publication.
领英推荐
But?rejection letters?can be a good thing! If you’re getting rejection letters, that means you’re sending your work out into the world. One of those submissions may lead to an acceptance—but you won’t know until you’re brave enough to be vulnerable and let editors see your poetry. Toss the towel and dive in!
You’re ready to try different things.?Wearing your favorite swimsuit, you can enjoy a lazy float in the lake, jump in the ocean waves, try the high dive, or wade in the shallow end of the pool. Or you can choose to stay dry while sitting under a big umbrella with a pi?a colada and the?latest beach read. By trying?different forms of poetry, you can also explore new ways to express yourself.
You’re not alone!?If you’re wearing a swimsuit somewhere, most likely others are too! Whether beachside or poolside, you’re all appropriately clad to enjoy the surroundings. (If you’re thinking about wearing a swimsuit to court or the post office, we’d suggest you reconsider your wardrobe options.)
You can write and enjoy poetry in the company of like-minded writers too.?Join a writing group, take a class, attend a poetry reading event—find your poetry tribe!
And if spending hours alone doing the research needed to make poetry submissions seems daunting, we’re here for you! Our research experts will pinpoint the best literary journals for your poetry and boost your odds of getting published. Learn more about Writer’s Relief’s services and?send in your writing samples today. We’ll do the busywork and research—you spend your time writing…and making a splash!
Metropolitan Market
2 年You're putting yourself out there with every word on the page with nothing hidden.
Senior Laboratory Technician at Hoya Vision
2 年On the morning my wife died there was no breeze flowing through the autumn leaves, no voice calling from the calm grey waters of a cold pale sea, and no one could feel the empty sadness of a spiraling madness overtaking all hope of joy in a cruel and ruined world. No one but me On the morning my wife died it became clear as panic what a shipwreck on a raging sea was left for me, what famine draught and disease would remain to accompany and mock me, no one to watch the flowers lose their colors and wither with a sigh, no one to hear the silence as the birds of flight forsook a forlorne and forgotten sky. No one but me On the morning my wife died there was no one to mourn the world as it forgot to turn, no one to see the desert dunes catch the wind and drift into a wasted swirl, and no one to see the majestic mountains lose their strength, shrug their shoulders and forget to stand against the world. No one but me On the morning my wife died there was no shinning sun in a clear blue sky, no one to watch it followed by the chasing moon on a pallid night and no one to watch the stars cry, failing to sparkle or knowing the reason why, falling from an abandoned sky like rain on a sad parade. No one but me. On the morning my wife died I died. S. Segal