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Molly began writing “poetry” when she started at Stanford. She wrote mostly for friends’ and family members’ birthdays. She called them raps when they were for friends and poems for the most part when they were for her parents. With some exposure to other styles of writing, the consistent rhyming nature of her poetry developed into new experiments. With some guidance, Professor John Evans helped Molly fall in love with a variety of new forms and ways to think about poetry. Inspiration for the project stemmed from her Human Biology classes and international and local healthcare volunteer opportunities. These experiences as well as her education compelled her to reflect on health disparities, especially critical issues for women and children.

Molly McKinney

Pick me up before I fall down

When I first heard about TSR from Sue
The whole concept seemed pretty new
The three letters were just another acronym
I thought, “Should I go out on a limb?”

Three quarters is a lot, an entire year!
My senior year is quite dear
to me and what about the pre-med spree?
Finally I decided to let physics be

postponed a bit longer to see
what might happen when I set myself free.
It got closer to the first TSR class
and I didn’t know if I could accept the task.

Fear had taken over me.
How should I know what my project will be?
I could commit myself to photography,
try to write some raps or poetry,

perhaps learn how do glassblowing,
or go for some sculpturing.
There’s so many choices
and so many voices

telling me that I could do this
or that and to decide before Christmas.
I knew it was easy enough to pick one,
to just go with it and have some fun.

Challenge yourselves, we were told.
My only choice was to be bold
and to go big or go home.
I had to let the poetry roam.

I couldn’t pinpoint my production
because who knows how it would function.
I had so many thoughts in my head
that I couldn’t put to bed.

There was no deciding on one or two.
There had to be some sort of queue.
Each were rockets in my head,
not quite stable and soon they were dead.

I had to learn how to capture the art
and how each word played a part.
Twyla was a great friend.
Each word she wrote helped me fend

off any blocking thought.
But in the fall I still did not
start writing, besides my plan.
But I had my TSR clan.

Winter break was the turning point
And my mentor was the joint
that gave chaos direction
in finishing my poetry collection.

He gave me many poetry books to read.
All helped plant the seed
in my mind to start
the process of true art.

They introduced the mechanics,
which sent me into some panics.
For a bit I did not know where to begin,
and frequently used the trash bin.

Others where less analytical,
and showed me that nothing is quite typical.
The anthologies were quite diverse
and each one strategically terse.

Some poems I understood—
Others were like getting lost in the woods.
I skipped over those quite quickly
so I wouldn’t feel so sickly.

I never formally learned how
to write poetry that screams WOW.
So over break the writing process ensued.
And my brother comments were quite crude.

Still he helped me discern
what was the most important thing to learn.
Although he is a bit younger than me,
his wisdom is like an elder tree.

His stature leaves me in his shadow,
but his criticism helped me grow.
So, thank you Ryan for your advice,
even if you weren’t always so nice.

The few stories I began to write
became longer and longer every night.
“A Caribbean Paradise” rhymed constantly.
Like this beautiful reflection that does so glaringly.

“Isms” was born
and I was torn.
It covers so much,
but there’s no final touch.

There are too many topics combined.
I cannot seem to find
a way to break it up.
Such is the process—I’m fed up.

Satisfaction is hard to find
in my head when I rewind,
especially with no gratification
or some praise so I had to be patient.

Winter break came and flew by.
Sent my first poem—sigh—
My first meeting with my mentor came quick
and afterwards I didn’t feel so sick.

Easing into the editing process was totally fine.
I got help editing line by line.
We read other examples
that were similar to my samples.

Slowly eased out of rhyming—
My skill set kept on climbing.
A sestina and villanelle—
These fixed forms went pretty well.

But still I will continue to rhyme here
because it’s the end of the year.
And we all need to have good cheer ☺
Sue and Andrew will cringe I fear.

Anyways, shorter, longer, and in between—
Each poem had different meaning,
falling out of place
or taking off into space.

The writing process
never really gave me time to rest.
Like Andrew said it rarely gets
easier to create perfect sets.

Get rid of that word perfection too!
It’s hard to create something new
and exciting when it falls into place.
Like Twyla says it’s all about the steady pace.

Consistently meeting with my mentor
helped open the door
to creativity and drive.
Now, I hope that my work continues to thrive.

In the spring I expanded the selection,
but mostly focused on choosing the final collection.
I ordered them all and dated the rest.
I kept the notebook for those that didn’t pass the test

because the stories needed to be told
otherwise my mind could not unfold.
This project is the ultimate reflection.
Sliding through the sieve—

It settles on new ground
so a new friend can be found.
Linking these pieces together was fun
and I made my mind run.

The book needed to be tamed
and soon it had to be named.
Thank you creative exercise
for keeping my mind alive.

I got better at not editing out
too much because of a single doubt.
Potential titles were inspired
and when combined they conspired

into a poem I love so much,
“Hanging Upside Down” had the final touch.
Also, around this time I learned a lot
by downloading many PDFs that taught

me how to lay out a book.
And good thing I took a look
because I did not know how
to write an intro, foreword, and preface. Oh wow.

What’s the difference between them?
Finally I learned how to make a gem,
with a table of contents and Ars Poetica poem!

Workshopping the cover was much needed.
Thankfully unclear thoughts were weeded.
Even with all of the work,
I missed one quirk

that I actually didn’t realize until now,
but oh well it happened somehow.
I spelt the word foreword wrong.
It’s so funny it took me that long.

I’m still happy about everything
and wish I could sing
on key because the exhibition was
incredible. It created quite the buzz.

There’s no way we could do this all
by working just in the fall.
I’ve learned how art takes time
and I wouldn’t trade the process for a dime.

Thanks to all of the support in TSR
we are all able to raise the bar
and can embrace other trajectories,
recreating the love for science and stories in our glories.

Overall the creative exercises were the best
and the workshops were a nest
where we could grow,
stay warm and be pushed out into the snow.

The year went quite fast.
We wrote in the past—long last
TSR—#StayArtsyStanford will persist.
and soon be on every freshman’s list

because Sue and Andrew are so bomb,
we are the TSR family who all get along.