No More Poetry-- for now
OK, I've played the role of poet for the past couple of days, and while I do enjoy a good rumba with rhythm and sound-- I want to get back to blogging.
I always wanted to be a poet, a regular Elizabeth Barrett Browning or edgy Sylvia Plath. Some people want to be rock stars, I just wanted to be poor. Few writers ever really make it, and yet so many starve for their fix. For writers sound-- the feel of syllables upon their tongue and the seductive curve of a lower case "e" just begging you to scratch it upon a piece of paper-- is heroine for the soul.
When I was a kid, I couldn't stand empty paper. I colored hard with bright obnoxious colors-- lime green, orange and clown-nose red. Pink elephants, purple lakes and fiery skies--Oh the innocence of youth. I'm getting to live it again through my little ones, and it is so hard to let their coloring book people have green and blue faces. Children-- now that's music for your blood. Sometimes it's a jolly Joplin jazz. Sometimes it's like listening to an orchestra of 5-year-olds alone with an untuned violin and a piano. And sometimes it's Norah Jones, a cup of coffee and rainfall.
And so, sometimes I dare to go back to my roots-- those days when poetry filled my brain with mush and I doodled during trigonometry. My kids are my inspiration and the tethers that tie me down (but that is OK-- it's a path I chose and wouldn't trade). They remind me all is not lost, each day is a new adventure, and yes I have the rest of my life to be a poet and a writer and a mother. They remind of how many stories a I haven't written and how many years past since I first dreamed the dream. The "if only" in my life hinders the pragmatic side of living.
We're here to live, but dreaming is so much fun.
I know I will never be a poet in the bookstore sense. I haven't the talent-- all the love and none of the "stuff." But I don't write for stores where in someone might stumble upon my book and might read a page or two. I write to feed something inside myself.
And the poetress has been fed. I'm full for now. The tax has been paid, and so no more poetry for now.
posted by Bonnie B | 9:13 AM
5 Comments:
bonnie- Oh my!!! You DO have talent- oodles of the stuff!You have a lovely style of writing!
Your hair poem was adorable and I would love to see more! (Maybe next week the poetress will be hungry again!)
Poetry is as poetry does, to allude to a very popular movie. A poet is someone who writes poetry and as long as you are doing that you are participating in the ancient tradition. You don't have to be a Plath to be a poet- and you wouldn't want to be anyway- not such a good ending.
Well, I am NOT a fan of poetry *boo, hiss, I can hear it now* so I will be glad if you can start blogging again. But, then again, I love your writing style and your stories, except when you call me a circuis clown :), but that's neither here nor there! (hehehehe)
Jodi--
my sweet, dear hilarious friend. I know you hate poetry-- that is why I wrote this blog-- I will keep writing poetry. I'm just taking a break from it in my blog because I want to write about something else. This blog is a transition.
I didn't want this become the poetry blog.
But let's keep the clown business between you, me and the rest of Paradise. This blog is my space. And if anyone is thoroughly confused-- we are not professional clowns.
You can't give up your poetry you are too good.
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