03-05-2016, 10:52 PM
This morning I realised that to be human, I need poetry -- and it's gone.
And it will come back.
Yes, I feel this way off and on. I was reading, Best Words, Best Order by Stephen Dobyns, and he framed writing poetry and fiction in a way I hadn't considered. Paraphrasing (and probably going too high level to give his position any justice): If he hates people and the world he can write fiction but not poetry. He needs to at least love others or their plight to write good poetry. I don't think that has anything to do with the content of the poetry (which can be all over the emotional spectrum and the content can be biting) just the impetus to write in the first place.
I go through what your talking about each year at some point. The reason differs: life's demands, skill deficit, not inspired, inability to get the right level of distance, or a variety of who knows why reasons. There are times, I feel like I can write anything and other times that I can't make anything come together. I've been more in that latter camp at the moment, but it always comes back.
And it will come back.
Yes, I feel this way off and on. I was reading, Best Words, Best Order by Stephen Dobyns, and he framed writing poetry and fiction in a way I hadn't considered. Paraphrasing (and probably going too high level to give his position any justice): If he hates people and the world he can write fiction but not poetry. He needs to at least love others or their plight to write good poetry. I don't think that has anything to do with the content of the poetry (which can be all over the emotional spectrum and the content can be biting) just the impetus to write in the first place.
I go through what your talking about each year at some point. The reason differs: life's demands, skill deficit, not inspired, inability to get the right level of distance, or a variety of who knows why reasons. There are times, I feel like I can write anything and other times that I can't make anything come together. I've been more in that latter camp at the moment, but it always comes back.
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson