I have revised (and in many cases, sent out) every poem I wrote this past summer, except for one. This poem has been especially frustrating to me because I really want it to work. Still, when I read through the lines, I’m seeing a lot of boring language and clichés. Worse yet, I’m really not sure if an audience will make the connections I want them to make in this particular piece. I’m writing a poem about playing in the abandoned strip mines as a kid and the connections to growing up (aka the changes in a female body). I know that may not make a lot of sense to those of you reading this post, but I do think the poem can work — it’s just not working right now.
So, when a poem is not working, I often find myself reading other poets who explore similar themes. I have lots of ideas about landscape — but I’m wondering: who writes about the female body in an honest way without diving into clichés? Any recommendations? Maybe you have written a poem that does this that you would like to share? Sharon Olds’ work comes to mind, but I am drawing a blank on any others…Suggestions are welcome.
The Scrapper Poet 
Jeannine Hall Gailey Said:
on September 29, 2010 at 1:31 am
Adrienne Rich’s Diving into The Wreck… Nancy Pagh’s No Sweeter Fat…
Karen Said:
on September 29, 2010 at 1:38 am
Adrienne Rich is always a must — but I forgot all about Nancy Pagh’s No Sweeter Fat — that’s also my bookshelf!
Thanks Jeannine!
Jeannine Hall Gailey Said:
on September 29, 2010 at 5:57 am
There are probably more, but I’m not thinking of them. Maybe Cadaver Dogs by Rebecca Loudon?
Kristin Berkey-Abbott Said:
on September 30, 2010 at 11:28 am
Kelli Russell Agodon’s breast cancer poems in “Small Knots” left me breathless.
In an earlier age, Marge Piercy wrote fierce feminist poems about the female body. I still remember first lines from a poem from the 80’s, which I’m paraphrasing here: “No woman decides to go on a diet while soaking in a bathtub.” Her book “The Moon Is Always Female” (one of my all time favorites) includes a poem about middle aged women jogging together.
Margaret Atwood too. There’s the poem about the hooks and eyes, “You fit into me like a hook fits into an eye” (again, a paraphrase from memory–the real poem was two or 4 lines and shocking in it’s brevity and harshness.