A Little Essay Called Start-A-Poem

I think I’ll make my next, next book this kind of thing, and call it From Poetry To Essay.  I’ve got so much damned stuff collected over the years.  I may as well use collate it and use it.  It/they about all kinds of ‘stuff’, i.e. bits and pieces of themes and ideas.   It’s a good way to get rid of it.

                                          A Little Essay called Start–A-Poem

 When I start a poem there is no thought of acceptance, spreading or sharing. The writing, motive pure, there is a kind of reverence for what is going on in the mind at the moment.  Only the creation process matters.

 The process set in motion, impossible to resist, I take up any paper scrap on hand:  backs of envelopes, the blank margins on receipts and ads.  I’ve even written on tissue paper.  Thankfully there is usually a pad and writing implement somewhere near, even an open computer.  And so it starts.  The writing, the thinking, long pauses, hesitations, corrections, thesauruses, dictionaries – each leading to contemplation, deeper layers, broader possibilities.  Every sensory impulse outside myself fodder.

 There grows enormous discipline sometimes called compulsion.  I can’t get up.  I can be in the most uncomfortable position and there I stay.  It’s irrational. At the moment of finishing I’m thinking this poem is the ‘cat’s pajamas’ and the next urge sneaks in: to have it read by someone, preferably some ones.   Thank God for the Internet.

 In the beginning, thanks to my computer literate daughter, it was establishing a poetry site.  Long after, the discovery of other poetry sites, online magazines…  Feedback, comments – wonderful.  A world out there that reads, thinks, likes, criticizes, 

 I’m there still; time consuming admittedly, but stimulating, producing an abstract, invisible condition of gratitude.  Part of the world now, giving, taking, I’m hooked.

March 20, 2018





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