In this post, I’ll discuss why I choose to obsess over poetry. How I was first exposed to it and why my passion for reading and writing has led me to where I’m at today with my writing routine. I also provide multiple lists of recommended reading, book reviews, and other blog posts I’ve written about poetry.
In 2011, I was exposed to poetry in a creative writing course in college. I read Wittgenstein and Maggie Nelson, which finally cracked open the world of poetry and creative writing in a way I could grasp. Since then, I’ve fallen down into a rabbit hole I don’t think I’ll ever want to get out of.
Recommended Reading: My Two Favorite Poetry and Writing Books
I haven’t been the same for years. I’ve found myself continually wanting to write and explore literature. Over time, my obsession with writing poetry resulted in various daily writing routines that I have tweaked to optimize writing output. And I’ve maintained a habit of writing for one to two hours per day since then.
Are you looking for an alpha or beta reader to review your poems? I can help! Learn more HERE.
Poetry: It’s Not as Fancy as You Think and It’s for Everyone
I used to think that poetry was some high-brow artistic form of writing. I thought that I’d never be able to understand, let alone write poetry, even though I was already an avid writer and reader.
Maybe it’s because poetry is intimidating at first due to its literary history and importance to countless civilizations, both ancient and new. Perhaps it’s because of its history of religious poetry, passing down legends and mythologies, or its significant use in addressing societal and cultural shifts. This fear of poetry is pretty common for people interested in it but hesitant to jump in.
I read tons of books on writing poetry. I’m keen to find reliable resources with pro tips that I can use to push my poetry in new directions. But reading poetry more than writing seems to positively affect my work. I’d highly recommend balancing time between reading and writing poetry to advance your writing.
Reading Suggestions: Excellent Books on Poetry by Robert Pinsky
Interested in Writing Poetry? Jump into the Rabbit Hole and Have Fun!
What can I say about poetry, about writing? Read, write, write some more, and get your hands on as much great poetry as possible. If you love it, let it become your obsession. Take joy in poetry and memorize poems you love; this has helped me compose and acknowledge the value of being able to read poetry effectively at events.
Are You a Poet? Or Are You New to Writing Poetry? Let’s Chat
Do you write poetry? When did you start, and why do you continue to write? Connect with me today and leave a comment below! I’d love to know your influences and what your writing routine is.
Enjoyed this post?Here’s 3 easy ways to come up with ideas for poems!
My cup of chamomile tea is cold. I glance out the window down at Saint Mary’s Square. I’m on the seventh floor of a nearby building in a community space typing away on my not-a-Mac laptop. It’s Saturday and the sun is out and blazing. The sun mixes the humidity in the air with aromas of the city streets: trash, piss, smoke (both cigarette and joint). I’ve been living in San Francisco for months now and I’ve let the city consume me, so now it’s time for a writer’s reflection.
When it’s hot like this I want to stay inside and sit near a large window. I want to observe people moving around like insects below, so I’m doing exactly that. Meanwhile, the tourists come in waves. They’re like migrating herds of mammals as they parade around downtown. Clogging up the street I live on, packs of touring families block sidewalks and gape up at the buildings. It’s getting harder not to run into them when they keep shifting like seagulls on a beach.
Do you like poetry? Feel free to browse a few of my poems HERE.
Where the Writer Resides: An Apartment in the City
My fault for choosing an apartment downtown. But I’m learning to deal with it because the tradeoff for being close to everything is worth it. I still haven’t lost my “rose-colored glasses” about living in San Francisco and in this writer’s reflection you can expect me to babble endlessly about how much I appreciate living here. Compared to Salt Lake City, I still consider this place a paradise with it’s own pros, cons, and complexities. Over a year after moving here, I’m grateful I made the jump. Waking up and realizing I’m in a city I actually want to live in adds to my happiness and I need every bit I can squeeze out.
I see the trees down in Saint Mary’s Square swaying in the wind. There’s a couple sitting on a bench. A family of three hunched over a red bag on another bench about fifty feet to the south. An empty stroller sits near a banana-yellow slide on the playground. I can’t spot a kid but I assume they’re there somewhere.
Radiohead: The Music Reminds Me of Living in San Francisco
I’m doing my best here. I tried listening to new music today but something about the way the sun hit made me return to Radiohead. Maybe it’s how it feels living in San Francisco that reminded me of Radiohead? Now, I’m listening to Pulk/Pull (True Love Waits Version). Remembering times over a decade ago when I sat on wet grass in Oregon.
A Writer’s Reflection Turns Into Time Travel
Memories brim to the surface and erupt. I’d sit outside for hours listening to hundreds of tracks on a brick of an iPod. Reveling the sounds as dense flog crept into the trees. Meanwhile, rain drops splattered on leaves. The wet chill that wormed under my jacket, my clothes, and into my bones. As the bugs and creatures scuttled in the greenery. The ivy choking trunks of pines, and birdsongs that echoed off the mist.
Look at me go, the words almost turn into gibberish, what a cliché writer’s reflection.
But I’m not trying to dwell on the past. I’m forcing myself to look toward the future and stay optimistic about everything. Although I have one eye on the news about Ukraine and the other scanning updates on laws passing in Red states. Despite the people’s concern about inflation, about gas prices, about this about that. I feel that t’s all compounding into a nonreality that I’m struggle to comprehend. However, this started over two years ago with the pandemic. I had no idea how to process it because I’d never experienced anything like it before.
Interested by my ramblings? You can skim more of my writer’s reflection about Life During COVID-19
A Writer’s Concerns About Everything Out of Her Control and Living in San Francisco
Now I’m concerned I’ll have to live through another coronavirus in my lifetime. I worry that hundreds of thousands more will die in and ignorance will yet again spur hatred and death. But this is all out of my control. Firstly, what am I doing to stay grounded? To not spin off into a spiral of worry over the possibility of a World War III? In this case, I’m writing, writing bilge, free writing the shit out of my mind in hopes of feeling an ounce of release. But at the end of the day, at least I’m living in San Francisco.
Where’s the Alina from Years Ago? What’s that Little Satanic-Obsessed Writer up to?
It’d be easier if I didn’t give a damn. Where did jaded Alina of ten years ago go? I must’ve misplaced her. Is she still nestled in the dog-eared pages of Anton LaVey books? Is she hiding behind my bookcase still crammed with texts on witchcraft and folklore? Where the hell did she go? I’d like to run into her today, although I doubt she’d be living in San Francisco then if she had the chance. A change to hear what she has to say, but she’s somewhere else now probably scribbling a writer’s reflection of my future self that’s been lost. In this situation, she could be rummaging in the back of my mind for a creepy storyline to whisper to me between sleep and dreaming.
Photo of the author Alina Happy Hansen taken in May 2020 by Dallas Basta
How many selves do we shed? Do carry with us? How many blend and morph into who we are now? The things we loved then, are some of those passions with us now? What’s “growing up” in a world full of adult-children? I don’t think a lot of people actually know who they are. I don’t think the majority of people have goals, or values, or have their shit together, this isn’t breaking news.
Alice Tumbles Down the Rabbit Hole: A Writer Spins Out in Observations
Based on my observations, no one knows what they’re doing. If they say they do they’re trying to convince themselves that they have control. There’s very little in our lives that we can actually manipulate to our advantage. I’m not gonna give the lemons into lemonade cliché, that’s bullshit. What I’m obsessed with right now is acknowledging when I don’t have control over something. I have to let go and focus on the small pieces that I can work with. Consciously working toward controlling the way I think and react is helping me deal with it all, and living in San Francisco has been an invaluable setting that allows me to appreciate where I am and how far I’ve come already. If you’re in a similar spot, try it out and tell me what you think.
I’m touring Radiohead’s Kid A Mnesia album as I write this, I’m on Pulk/Pull Revolving Doors. What are you listening to? Reading? Thinking about? Are you writing your guts out like me to cope with the world around you? Leave a comment below, connect with me, and let’s chat.
What’s happening? I’ve been trying to stay calm; I’ve been digesting everything going on in my personal life and the world for months now, a little in shock and a little overwhelmed. Where do I start? Well…
The Invasion of Ukraine and the Potential for World War III
Ukraine has settled into a permanent space in my brain. When I read the latest news, a thrum of anxiety pulses through me at different vibrations. The video, the photos, the reports of the destruction, the murder; these people’s lives are just torn apart because Putin wants to play old-world games that can no longer happen without the entire world watching. I’m so grateful we have the technology we do so the world can use its voice to speak out against Putin’s actions.
We might end up with a World War III, but I’m hoping not every day. I’m hoping they make it, that they can push Russia out, and the world won’t give up telling Putin he can stick it. But after the last six years of chaos, living during the tyranny years of Trump, COVID-19, the Black Lives Matter protests, the rise of white supremacist groups gaining support from the GOP, the corrupt actions of the Trump and his followers to overturn the election, I wouldn’t be surprised if this is next. Suppose the world ends up going to war. If we have to unite and fight for democracy and freedom, then so be it. Even as the last veterans and people who lived during World War II pass on and we fight Nazism here in the U.S., we can’t let the war crimes of Putin go unchecked. Unfortunately, my bruises haven’t healed, and they’re still tender to the touch. I’m trying to stay positive, but now I’m planning for the worst.
Am I trying to move forward? It’s not gone, eradicated, not at all. So many have lost family and friends to the virus, and now there’s a disconnect between those still grieving and struggling to deal with what happened these last two years and those ready to live life pre-March 2020.
I’m trying to move forward, but I’m not going to forget how many died and continue to perish because of the virus. I admit I’m wearing my mask less in public spaces. One of the reasons we moved to SF in the first place is that it’s a city where most people take COVID-19 seriously. I feel safer in San Francisco with our extraordinarily high fully-vaxxed rates and the percentage of people who’ve received their boosters.
An Intermission: Where’s my Mind? In San Francisco and Beyond
It’s quiet tonight. I can hear the rhythmic buzzing of the cable car line moving on Powell Street. I gulp down lukewarm mango ginger tea and wonder if I’ll have time tomorrow to read more from The Vintage Book of Contemporary American Short Stories. There hasn’t been much time to sit and read. I attempted two days ago to sit on the rooftop patio of the apartment building and read bits of Tales of the City. I became distracted by an older couple, maybe Gen Xers, arguing and putting in my Bluetooth earbuds to blast ocean sounds on Spotify. Back in my apartment, the neighbor slams their door down the hall; the glasses in my kitchen rattle. Why does everyone in this building like to slam doors? There’s nothing wrong with peace, but this is a city, so the sound is as loud as the stench of piss in the streets. I’m used to it now, but sometimes it’s more noticeable when I’m thinking like this.
There’s a numbness that has settled into my routine. I’m trying to balance my daily life, absorbing world news, and managing my stress. What is there to be stressed out about? Too much, I guess. Maybe it’s the inflation. Perhaps it’s the consistency of hate crimes directed toward the AAPI and LGBTQIA+ community. My stomach flips as I read about Texas’ abortion law and how other red states are writing their own as fast as possible so they can reverse the rights women have fought for for generations. What the hell is going on here?
This is only the beginning. Expect to see a weekly post like this one where I dive deep into my reflections on what’s going on in the world and my life. I’m just a writer, a poet, juggling things as I go along. Want to chat? Leave a comment below or email me at alinahappyhansenwriter@gmail.com.
We all need to help each other survive these days to have safe places to live for years to come. Have resources you’d love to share to help support Ukraine, AAPI, and LGBTQIA+ communities? Please share, and I will as well.
