My Why... why why why...

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Thread: My Why... why why why...

  1. #1

    My Why... why why why...

    Why... that's the question... why... whys drive me crrrrrazzzy... my why is this... Why write poetry... why??? I know hundreds... maybe even thousands of people, people who have passed through my life, some life long friends and a huge family... but the weird thing is... they don't feel the burning desire to write a poem... I find that so intriguing... and kinda ... sad... Why? Why don't they write poems.... I mean... how can they not...

    I know why I write... my beloved GrandMam started reading poetry to me at the age of 2... I fell in love with the sound of her voice as she read and I fell in love with the beautiful rhythm, ebb and flow of the poems she read... and I fell in love with the "Raggedy Man"... and I cried over "The Wreck of The Hesperus"....

    Later, I turned to poetry, as a way to express things that were happening to me, and that was how I survived, reading and writing poetry, losing myself in the beauty of the words as I read poetry to escape my world... writing poetry probably saved my life..

    Often I write just because I love words... I will hear a phrase or a line in a song and my mind kicks into POETRY MODE... and then I am DRIVEN to write... for me, it is almost a primal urge... and it can NOT be ignored...

    But most do not feel the urge to write their thoughts, moods, emotions or anything else, in a poem...

    So my question is WHY do YOU write poetry....why... why why why....
    She lost herself in the trees,
    among the ever-changing leaves.
    She wept beneath the wild sky
    as stars told stories of ancient times.
    The flowers grew toward her light,
    the river called her name at night.
    She could not live an ordinary life,
    with the mysteries of the universe
    hidden in her eyes....
    Author: Christy Ann Martine

    Death leaves a heartache no one can heal,
    love leaves a memory no one can steal....
    Author unknown.

  2. #2
    Good question, Fire. For me writing poetry is like an itch that needs to be scratched. I don't itch ALL the time so I only scratch as and when the itch demands.... which is often. Words flow onto the paper - a stream of consciousness.

    Poetry can be result of a random thought, emotions, visual prompts, sounds etc. For example, the other evening I was writing to an online friend and I was feeling extremely sad. I am in a lot of pain which means I can no longer walk very far and the op I had back in January to cure the problem only made matters worse.

    I was crying with frustration and despair as I wrote the email. My art teacher and friends think I'm always happy and positive because I laugh a lot and am always smiling despite my disability...My online friend can't see me. This prompted me to pen a poem about a clown. It's a little cliched 'the tears of a clown' but I don't care. The poem was a release valve as the tears became ink.
    Last edited by PiP; May 1st, 2019 at 11:21 PM.
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  3. #3
    Not everyone should write poetry but most everyone should learn to read a poem now and then.

    Being Committed
    cuts a board, swings a hammer,
    drives a nail, to do its chore.

    It is the labor, won and lost
    given freely to our inspirations,
    for any art-form, every kind:
    music, painting, drama, poetry;
    whatever the ghoul may be
    standing in the inflamed archway.
    It's a spin chosen by life-style.

    Just a choice between
    feeling alive or feeling dead
    as life's breath. It chooses
    to know the intimate moment
    in raindrop and snowflake

    It's like blowing your nose,
    tying your shoes in the dark,
    kissing your lover goodbye
    hugging your grand-children
    for no reason at all,
    changing the diaper on
    baby's dirty dandy butt.
    Poetry holds your final word.

    It's how you cook the beans in
    a cast iron pot on a gas stove –
    with one or two ham hocks.
    It's that simple selection
    of ingredients that's used, so
    important to flavor the stew.

    It is a choice, a dedication
    to live a life without question
    not in submission, but admission.
    It's not exclusive; it's inclusive.

    Poetry liberates acceptance
    that our small planet lives
    and breathes. Forested Mother,
    blue-marble afloat in space,
    spinning on its magnetic core,
    whirling in its elliptical orbit,
    drawn toward the sun's light;
    it uplifts our being in awe,
    awakening pulse, life's melody.

    Evoked now we wish to sing
    to fields filled with butterflies,
    to bob cat's growl & coyote's howl.
    This why you want to listen
    to chirping morning music,
    and to feel the shower spray
    sprinkling summer's body cool.

    Poetry is life and death in
    every breath. Changing as we
    grow; it celebrates being alive:
    our freedom bound to it
    like a rooted redwood giant.

    A poet friend
    © RH Peat 5/1/2019

  4. #4
    Poetry, and writing, becomes a manifestation of my thoughts, memories, and (above all) feelings. It's a passion, and one that is extremely therapeutic. It allows me to take everything inside of me and put it into words for someone to read.

    I think poetry is so important. It's incredible, soulful, and liberating to write.

    It is freedom from the world, if but for a while...
    “As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light of meaning in the darkness of mere being,"

    -Carl Jung

  5. #5
    Anything that I write/draw/create is for the purpose of sharing a story, real or imaginary. Poetry as a medium is both my first instinct and last resort. Before I write a story, usually I'll have written a couple poems about the characters first. And if I am frustrated by every other method of storytelling, I will use poetry.
    "So long is the way to the unknown, long is the way we have come. . ." ~ Turisas, Five Hundred and One

    "[An artist is] an idiot babbling through town. . .crying, 'Dreams, dreams for sale! Two for a kopek, two for a song; if you won't buy them, just take them for free!'" ~ Michael O' Brien,
    Sophia House

    Christ is risen from the dead,
    trampling on Death by death,
    And on those in the tombs,
    lavishing light.



  6. #6
    It's simple for me:

    Because I have to, it's my only means of expression and communication.

    But after that initial need, I have to chisel and etch, add and delete, move around and shape, and make it as artsy as I possibly can
    Hidden Content Hidden Content

    I am a clay potato in a strawberry field
    -Darren White, from "Clumsy"

  7. #7
    I write poetry to liberate the hidden parts of my mind and to share that liberation with whomever wishes to hear it. I believe it can set us both free. Not everyone understands that through music, art and poetry, you can become much more than who you are and you can inspire others to do the same. It's remarkable that most people resist it. I don't really understand why, unless it's because they want the hidden parts of their minds to remain hidden. They must be afraid of what it may reveal to them. I think we could solve most of the problems in the world if everyone wrote poetry. John Lennon pretty much had it figured out. But then, he also had a lot of money.

  8. #8
    Quote Originally Posted by PiP View Post
    Good question, Fire. For me writing poetry is like an itch that needs to be scratched. I don't itch ALL the time so I only scratch as and when the itch demands.... which is often. Words flow onto the paper - a stream of consciousness.

    Poetry can be result of a random thought, emotions, visual prompts, sounds etc. For example, the other evening I was writing to an online friend and I was feeling extremely sad. I am in a lot of pain which means I can no longer walk very far and the op I had back in January to cure the problem only made matters worse.

    I was crying with frustration and despair as I wrote the email. My art teacher and friends think I'm always happy and positive because I laugh a lot and am always smiling despite my disability...My online friend can't see me. This prompted me to pen a poem about a clown. It's a little cliched 'the tears of a clown' but I don't care. The poem was a release valve as the tears became ink.

    Dear PiP, first allow me to say how sorry I am for what you are going through... and I think that pretending to be cheerful and happy... smiling when you want to weep makes one feel even more alone and isolated... I love that you said your tears become ink... and I laughed when you said writing was an "itch that needed scratched".... thank you for sharing your thoughts with me...



    Quote Originally Posted by Bard_Daniel View Post
    Poetry, and writing, becomes a manifestation of my thoughts, memories, and (above all) feelings. It's a passion, and one that is extremely therapeutic. It allows me to take everything inside of me and put it into words for someone to read.

    I think poetry is so important. It's incredible, soulful, and liberating to write.

    It is freedom from the world, if but for a while...

    "Writing becomes a manifestation of my thoughts, memories and [above all] feelings"
    "Freedom from the world, if just for awhile".... yes! Beautifully said, thank you ...



    Quote Originally Posted by ArrowInTheBowOfTheLord View Post
    Anything that I write/draw/create is for the purpose of sharing a story, real or imaginary. Poetry as a medium is both my first instinct and last resort. Before I write a story, usually I'll have written a couple poems about the characters first. And if I am frustrated by every other method of storytelling, I will use poetry.
    I find that very interesting... poetry is a distilled, intense version of a story... yes? Thank you


    Quote Originally Posted by Darren White View Post
    It's simple for me:

    Because I have to, it's my only means of expression and communication.

    But after that initial need, I have to chisel and etch, add and delete, move around and shape, and make it as artsy as I possibly can
    Yes, Poetry does help express our emotions, and for me when I write a poem, I can kinda be "removed" from those emotions... if that makes any sense... thank you...



    Quote Originally Posted by TL Murphy View Post
    I write poetry to liberate the hidden parts of my mind and to share that liberation with whomever wishes to hear it. I believe it can set us both free. Not everyone understands that through music, art and poetry, you can become much more than who you are and you can inspire others to do the same. It's remarkable that most people resist it. I don't really understand why, unless it's because they want the hidden parts of their minds to remain hidden. They must be afraid of what it may reveal to them. I think we could solve most of the problems in the world if everyone wrote poetry. John Lennon pretty much had it figured out. But then, he also had a lot of money.

    "I write poetry to liberate the hidden parts of my mind"..... there.... yes... that... To liberate the hidden parts of my mind..... wow... that is POWERFUL... I am going to be thinking about this for a long, long time... Thank you for sharing... This is a fabulous quote and I am going to put it where I can see it every day and especially on those days when I try to explain why I write , to someone who will never understand...
    She lost herself in the trees,
    among the ever-changing leaves.
    She wept beneath the wild sky
    as stars told stories of ancient times.
    The flowers grew toward her light,
    the river called her name at night.
    She could not live an ordinary life,
    with the mysteries of the universe
    hidden in her eyes....
    Author: Christy Ann Martine

    Death leaves a heartache no one can heal,
    love leaves a memory no one can steal....
    Author unknown.

  9. #9
    Quote Originally Posted by RHPeat View Post
    Not everyone should write poetry but most everyone should learn to read a poem now and then.

    Being Committed
    swings a hammer, cuts a board,
    drives a nail, to do its chore.

    It is the labor, won and lost
    given freely to our inspirations,
    for any art-form, every kind:
    music, painting, drama, poetry;
    whatever the ghoul may be
    standing inflamed at the archway.
    It's a spin chosen by life-style.

    Just a choice between
    feeling alive or feeling dead
    as life's breath. It choses
    to know the intimate moment
    of raindrop and snowflake

    It's like blowing your nose,
    tying your shoes in the dark,
    kissing your lover goodbye
    hugging your grand-children
    for no reason at all,
    changing the diaper on
    baby's dirty dandy butt.
    Poetry holds your final word.

    It's how you cook the beans in
    a cast iron pot on a gas stove –
    with one or two ham hocks.
    It's that simple selection
    of ingredients that's used, so
    important to flavor the stew.

    It is a choice, a commitment
    to live a life without question
    not in submission, but admission.
    It's not exclusive; it's inclusive.

    Poetry liberates acceptance
    that our small planet lives
    and breathes. Forested Mother,
    blue-marble afloat in space,
    spinning on its magnetic core
    whirling in its elliptical orbit
    drawn toward the sun's light;
    it uplifts our being in awe,
    awakening pulse, life's melody.

    Evoked now we wish to sing
    to fields filled with butterflies,
    to bob cat's growl & coyote's howl.
    This why you want to listen
    to chirping morning music,
    and to feel the shower spray
    sprinkling summer's body cool.

    Poetry is life and death in
    every breath. Changing as we
    grow; it celebrates being alive:
    your freedom bound to it
    like a rooted redwood giant.

    A poet friend
    © RH Peat 5/1/2019

    Okk now... THIS is why I READ poetry... and why poetry is my passion! The first 2 stanzas really resonated with me... this is a fierce poem... and the last 2 lines... killer!
    She lost herself in the trees,
    among the ever-changing leaves.
    She wept beneath the wild sky
    as stars told stories of ancient times.
    The flowers grew toward her light,
    the river called her name at night.
    She could not live an ordinary life,
    with the mysteries of the universe
    hidden in her eyes....
    Author: Christy Ann Martine

    Death leaves a heartache no one can heal,
    love leaves a memory no one can steal....
    Author unknown.

  10. #10
    My words talk so I don't have to. Yet people become so absorbed in finding the profundity of the metaphors they miss the obvious. No one hears because they are too busy talking over each other, but something was said. Not a fair test, I will admit, but it does give one a decent indication of what others' actions and attitudes are like.

    I don't talk over the top of other, my words don't stand out. If someone hears, listens I make an effort not to disappear back into the wall because they heard (read) something that resonated through the din of life. I read much, much more than I write and words form the lenses through which I view the world.

    Just some thoughts.

    - D.
    Last edited by Darkkin; May 2nd, 2019 at 12:16 PM.


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