One of the things I love about writing, about woodworking, about cooking - is that it takes something and changes it into something else. Cooking, you take the raw elements, veggies, meat, grains, and turn them into something entirely different, edible (I hope) and pleasing. With wood, it's taking a board that has very little personality to it and augmenting that personality to help it shine. With words, it's an idea, a thought, a feeling, and making that concept take root in the reader. What these all have in common is that they are creative endeavors, and that is where I feel most at home, like I am doing something I am supposed to do. So when people ask, "Why Poetry?" I can only respond with "Because I must." Yes, it sounds incredibly pompous - I'm not going to lie - but it's also the truth. Is my poetry good? Honestly....out of ten years' time, there are only a couple that I think are worth anything, let alone calling them "good." Maybe there are a few more than that, but that's really up to the reader. If I were a smarter person, I would consider writing a book called "Why Poetry?" but to be honest, it would be a short book. So if anyone is wondering why....well, maybe you have a little more insight now that you didn't before...at least into one would be poet's reasons.
to write or not
there is never a question,
but to write is to share,
it might be a lot,
or a little,
but to take an idea and plant it in someone's mind
like a door,
tall and narrow,
four panels and a brass knob,
no peep-hole,
sitting atop a three-stepped stoop
attached to a white house with black shutters
on a rainy day in the country,
with bright flowers in a window box
that contrast with the greens of the fields and grasses -
that is something, indeed.
Thanks for reading,
Me
No comments:
Post a Comment