I AM A working poet.
Which means I am not a poet basking on the laurels of my past awards and poetry publications.
I have not gained superstar status as a poet. (I’m trying to be modest here, of course.)
But I write poems (or, at least, notes for a poem) everyday.
I struggle and labor to keep poetry alive I my daily life.
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I read poems everyday.
Other people’s poems.
Famous poets, lesser known poets, and even unknown poets.
Sometimes, I just read a psalm from the Bible, or something from “The Song of Songs.”
On strange days — my weird, self-indulgent days, I read poetry that I have written in the past; sometimes, they can be 25 or 30 years old.
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From time to time, I conduct online writing workshops.
I give poetry lectures and small talks that I post online.
(Perhaps, in the near future, I can collect these and turn them into a book—“The Poetics of Peter Solis Nery.”)
In my workshops, I like tasking participants to write poems based on prompts.
People love poetry challenges.
And I like that I can keep them focused on certain themes, or elements and skills.
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I pride myself in my quick return of evaluation, or the giving of instant feedback.
(Even in poetry contests, I’m pretty fast to give my evaluations and judgments.)
I mean, why not?
I know what I’m doing, I know what I want, and poetry is already second nature to me.
My position has always been: If you don’t like what I’m saying, if you don’t like my judgment, tough shit, Sherlock, go f*ck yourself!
I am not in business for people who do not trust or believe in me.
I am not in business to please assholes.
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But I know I am liked because however crazy my choices are, people recognize my genius, my logic, my reasoning, my humor, and my style.
People understand that my critiques are not born out of malice, but of my genuine desire to teach creative writing.
They know I can be colorful with my language, but also that I’m very reasonable.
And still they flock to my workshops, and are only too eager to get my approval.
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But the greatest thing is—people recognize that I walk the talk.
People see that I can do the challenge that I give them.
That I am not some psycho teacher who teaches writing because s/he cannot write him/herself.
And nobody can accuse me of being a has-been who is now just reduced to teaching.
Because I am a real working poet!
And I’ll give any one of my participants a run for their money.
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For the fourth weekend of The PSN Weekend Poets Project, my class assignment was nightpieces in the three-line form.
And my common comments were: “This is cliché! This lacks ambition! This is no reason to cut a tree to make books of poetry. This is vague, this is generic. This is whimsical, no oomph, no pizzazz! Meh! Nothing wrong, but nothing special either.”
So, how do you bring 21stcentury spirit and moxie to Night, a theme and subject as old as time?
(Maybe, older than time because in the beginning there was just darkness like night!)
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Well, what better way to teach than to show what the possibilities are for a three-liner on the theme of Night.
I wrote my “26 Nightpieces” in varied tones, from various points of view (and sexual roles).
I want to teach that poetry is not the poet’s reality.
A poet’s reality is always “part of the poem” but it doesn’t always “have to be the poem.”
I don’t care if you are not a prostitute, you can still write about prostitution!
That’s why it’s called creative, because it’s imaginative, writing.
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In “26 Nightpieces,” I want people to step out, and go beyond their comfort zone.
To not be afraid to read and tackle sex, sexuality, and God in poetry.
I want to display cleanness, compaction, economy of words, and brevity as wit.
I want to show the possibilities of unencumbered, sleek, modern language as opposed to florid, elaborate, Victorian style.
I want to show boldness, and 21stcentury daring in themes and vocabulary. (But if I’m not too vulgar, remember also that I was born in the past century!)
I want to show that I can be romantic and lyrical (note the candlelight poems) and I can be sensual and erotic (check out the Vaseline poem!).
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I have numbered my nightpieces in the chronological order that they appeared to me from 3:20 p.m. (as dated and recorded in my iPhone Notes) to 4:00 pm (my predetermined stop time via alarm clock.) of October 17, Saturday, at my house in Maryland.
Yeah, 26 pieces in 40 minutes. Why not?
As I said, poetry is second nature to me.
I breathe poetry, I think and live out poetry!
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Read the “26 Nightpieces by Peter Solis Nery” in my next column./PN
