lei is me

i’m still very new to this whole… writing thing. for a while there, i just refused to have anything to do with it, because i figured, why do something i know i’m not good at? but i’ve been challenging that, which is why i made this blog. and i’ve written a lot of poems in the past few weeks.

but there’s one thing i’ve noticed.

there seems to be something lacking in my poems that use first person pronouns (ie. i, me, my, etc.)

and i don’t know why that is? is it a self perceived flaw in my own writing? i don’t think so, because i still enjoy the poems i write that talk about me directly. but i think there’s an air of fantasy and dreaminess that is lost when a poem is so blatantly about a person’s own experience.

that’s not to say poems shouldn’t be about our experiences, nor is it to say poets who use first person language are bad at their job. both are incorrect! there is value in all forms of art.

but the reason i ponder this is because i am challenging myself. that’s what this whole season is about, no? first, i challenged myself by actually writing something. then, i shared it with someone in private. then, i made my writing public. all three seemed like impossibilities a few years ago,

but i’ve gotten over the initial mountains now. i’m at a good baseline. so why not challenge myself with something hard?

this past weekend, i set myself a goal to write a poem or two that expressed my personal experiences without using first person pronouns or language. a poem that is about me- but not about me.

it’s weird! i’ll tell you that! and the funny thing i’ve noticed is that since setting this challenge, i’ve had an influx of inspiration for poems that do use first person language. which i take as it comes, of course. inspiration is a gift, no matter what for.

but i wonder does anyone else feel the same way? does it ever feel like things have become shallow and vain as self obsession becomes more normalized? will humans ever take time to stoop at a riverside and see their warped reflection in the flowing water, ever changing, or will we forever condemn ourselves to the exact replica we see in selfie cameras?

same goes for poetry, or writing in general. what happened to metaphors?! what happened to symbolism!? the youth must bring back the archaic and mysterious language that had 8th grade english teachers frothing at the mouth with excitement!

more to follow, perhaps. we shall see.

Leisan Yusupov, 2025