‘I’d love
to write poetry, but…how do I find something to write about?’ people often ask.
Well, try
looking all around and letting your senses loose on sight and/or hearing and/or
smell and/or touch and/or taste...
[e.g. See also: 'Puddles' ]
The
chances are the inner self will respond, and that response is called inspiration.
As for a
choice of genre into which to channel inspiration, whether it is
writing, music, art...just go for what appeals to you most and never be afraid
of someone trying to put you down for a poor result (there will always be
someone) because there is no such thing as a poor result where someone has put
their inner self on the line by creating something. Success is relative, and a
bonus; it is finding inspiration and learning to use it as a creative tool that
counts.
My
personal experience, as someone who has suffered serious bouts of depression
since early childhood, is that making this particular journey is also very therapeutic.
LINES ON THE EXTRAORDINARY NATURE OF ORDINARINESS
Clouds,
magic carpet rides
away from
it all…
Birdsong, calling to mind
bathtime rituals
for potential
divas to woo
an
audience, willing captives
of
imagination
Grass, littered
with daisies,
sunspots
of memory…
Trees, leafy arms signing,
telling
us off for things
we’ve done,
forgotten, never
meant to
happen
A broken
fence, urging us to
repair
old friendships…
An empty
chair, in memory
of
someone who’ll never
sit there
any more, words in
the air
left unsaid
Crisp,
clean pillowcases, all
to
ourselves…
Watching
a damp patch on
the
ceiling spread,
fill the
eye like a weepy sky
passing judgement
Ordinariness, the extraordinary
nature of poetry...
Copyright
R. N. Taber 2005; 2014
[Note: This
poem has been revised (2014) since its first appearance in A Feeling for
the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005]
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