Saturday, January 30, 2010

La Poésie

I wish writing and sharing poetry didn't make one seem like a narcissistic, pretentious boob.

I mean, I'm as turned off by boobs as the average gay man... gay young man, I guess I should say--I still feel like I look like I'm in my late teens (and that's being kind of generous).

Nonetheless, I enjoy writing poetry.

That is, I go through my spurts--one of which I am currently in the middle.

But in writing poetry, I feel so... I don't know, I guess I just sometimes feel like poetry is so trite and convoluted (in the negative sense).

For example, one of my recent poems:
Bereft and deep
the soliloquy song shall
sing once more of lovers’
hands entwined in bitter
fate
They, lorn-resigned,
are squalor’s torpid, glazing
miss

while in restraint they
lust as dirted braze
I think to myself, "Really? Did I just write that?? Gag!" (Yes, I used the word "Gag" -- I'm trying to be more gay.)

... and, yet... a part of me absolutely loves it, the imagery (including the more literal imagery of the textual format), the emotion, all of the triteness and cliché-ness, the inferences and implications that I can only hope the reader will pick up on, the inferences and implications that I originally did not intend and may not even see, myself.

So, I keep on writing poetry, mostly for myself, hiding it in shame that I could be so... emotional...

2 comments:

  1. please do write

    more

    share the good and not so with
    brothers you may inspire much
    though you know not

    take courage that you code for us
    heart wounds undressed
    bleeding saturday mornings

    fearing more than you to
    "publish your comment"
    and stand cleansed with you in

    sunshine

    ReplyDelete
  2. Yes, keep writing. The creative process is always that... You always have a love hate relationship with your own work, though if you keep working at it, eventually the love outweighs the hate.

    ReplyDelete