Why Not Try #Poetry… If You Dare

I have attempted to write poetry for years and years. And I do mean attempted. I’ve failed at many of those attempts. To be truthful I’ve never felt like I really succeeded at writing a great poem. Yet I continue to try. Some have been good, some readable and some deleted in frustration after hours of trying.

If you asked me how to write a readable poem I would say “Feel the words.” Emotion is the key and the words are the door. The structure of that door is up to you. This is poetry. Of course, poetry can be very detailed in its structure, much like a door, and there are many devices that can be considered like, theme, imagery, form, repetition, rhythm, sound and so on. The voice and structure you decide to use will make your poem unique.

I wrote a poem and posted it on Facebook  and a good friend wrote in comment “Very eloquent and fluent words of wisdom from a great poet” My thought, no way. I’m not even close to being a great poet. Of course I still don’t think it’s a great poem but I like the idea that someone enjoyed reading it.  In my comment back I wrote, guess when I write from the wounds of life the writing is always going to be readable. I hope I remain forever and always unbroken by life. I gratefully accept the cracks life brings but refuse to break. I think to be a great poet a person needs to feel the pains of life. Perhaps more so than most. Creatives feel emotion more deeply than most, I think anyway. I could be wrong but poets, like all good writers, draw from life, what we see, hear, touch, taste but also how we feel while experiencing life and how those around us also interact with us.  The poem was titled, UNBROKEN.

 

Unbroken.

A silken reflection flows over liquid glass, made weak and vulnerable.

Deep into the ripples I stare, doubting, dreaming.

Let me wait and whisper, still my heart.

If one word should outpour, be muttered, spoken.

Let that word be, evermore.

By Vacen Taylor

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Many of the great poets suffered at the hands of life. Those great invisible hands that slapped them down, wrung them out and twisted their bodies and minds with each rising sun and every diving moon. The moments when joy engulfed them and happy tears streamed over their faces and fell away onto the earth, the sea or neither.

Poets write emotion in the highest form of language. I am not a poet yet.  I may never reach that point. But I will keep trying.

 

So until next time. Be brave and bold in your chosen field of creativity. And never be afraid to explore new techniques.

 

Comments

  1. Wow, V the poem is lovely.

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