Friday, 11 July 2014

Lines on the Extraordinary Nature of Ordinariness

‘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.


Clouds, magic carpet rides
away from it all…

Birdsong, calling to mind
 bath time 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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