Megan Eaves

at the end of last year, i decided to make 2016 my ‘year of poetry’. not quite sure what that meant, really, i just knew i wanted to spend more time reading, thinking about and writing poetry.

i don’t consider myself to be a poet. but i do, and have, written poetry, since i was about 16. a rather wonderful high school english teacher of mine pushed me in that direction. i once presented her with a folder of hand-written verse after a particularly engaging class on 20th century poets during which i found an immediate connection with the swirling sonnets of edna st vincent millay. her handwritten feedback a few days later was obviously trying to encourage my girlish and awkward attempts at writing about things beyond my emotional age. she told me i had a recurring motif. i was hooked.

it took a hiatus for some years. came back when i got my heart broken. i dabbled in songwriting, at which i was never particularly skilled (partially owing to the fact that i didn’t inherit my father’s incredible musical talents). and over the past year, i’ve found myself yearning for more verse in my life.

some goals for the year include completing two poetry MOOCs. one is through the california institute of the arts. it’s a more hands-on writing workshop, and it’s stretching my writing bone, forcing me to write one or two poems per week to prompts and using different devices than i’d normally reach for. the other is a yale literature course on reading and understanding classical and modern poetry.

in april, i’m going to try to write a poem a day to coincide with national poetry month in the us. this will, interestingly, also coincide with a three-week trip to gansu province in western china, so writing should come easily and inspiration will be found on desert bluffs and dune sunsets, i hope.

i’d like to share some poems that i write here, if nothing more than to air them. i cannot promise they will be good. or even finished.