Its been a month since I started writing poetry. It has been very fulfilling, but at times a curse. I’m starting to think in verse. Its been a strange journey. I’m not sure exactly where my poetry comes from, but there it is. By my count, I’ve written 34 poems in the first month. I still don’t know what the technical rules for writing are. I still wonder at some of the things I’ve written. To be sure some of it is contrived and amateur. It just flows out. An example from this morning: I was doing a little reading and came across the word “pen”. A few thoughts went through my mind, none of them poetic. Then I wrote the words “The pen” on a blank piece of paper and this is what appeared:
The pen is an unformed repository of words
Not like the keyboard designed for nerds
The poet unleashes another day
Words are nourishment, not just something to say
Let your mind go free, your heart will be strong
A little chaotic nonsense won’t take long
For the seeds of serenity to grow,
The words of the poet are something to know
The structure of the verse is inconsequential
Feelings, emotions are the foundation of sensual
Breathe, release, breathe, release, all will be well
Embrace the new day, many stories to tell
My thought: “ask not what the writer meant when he wrote it, ask how you felt when you read it”. Have a day filled with joy and wonder.
Pete's Wisdom 