Heading towards a weekend. At times here in this site and inlonelypoet.org I have said many times, what process through which Itake an event and expand that event to an idea and write about it. Theprocess remain same no matter what different ways I put it. Sometimethe whole process may take about 10 min. Sometime it may take a week ortwo. There was one time it took nearly 10 years. Life in two differentcountries, 3 relationships in between, 3 major deaths in the family.Still I held on to that one idea. That’s the first suggestion I cangive to a young writer. Consistency and the persistence on beingunique. The one reason I stayed in Xanga is there are many youngwriters who show that amazing talent of expression through words. It isthe most difficult art form. As many are young and naive they justdon’t know the treasure they are sitting upon. When I said treasure Ididn’t mean that one is sitting on top of a pot of Gold or money. Poetryis not valued in money and in fact there is little or no money one canearn writing poetry. Money is for the brain and actions generated outof brain. Poetry is from the heart, to the heart, so it is thespiritual enhancement that it brings. With that one can perfect a lotof the brainy works. Said that… it may only take a simple phrase onehear or sight one see that triggers the whole process, so in a way, amaterial connection is always there. It then goes through the spiritualside. Not a lot of writers these days really understand the differencebetween an action and its spiritual side. For most of the people it is all bound together. To become a poet the first and foremost thing toachieve is to differentiate between the two. Talent alone won’t makeone a poet, knowledge alone won’t make one a poet either. Knowledge isthe action, it can be learned. Talent is the spiritual side of it andit need to be blend with the action at the right amount. That, one canonly earn by practice. A poet should write everyday. Even if what iswritten don’t make sense he/she should write. Because when God gave youthat talent God meant something with it and you don’t want todisappoint God by denying it.
Here is a simple example of taking an event from life. When I saidlife I cannot clearly say it is absolutely real. Because from the timeafter this poem is written things have changed. I thought of notposting this poem here ever. What I want to show is, how to treat anevent from a poetic perspective. The situation was, I didn’t heard fromsomeone for sometime. I thought that person is gone-a-gone. Just athought what that person may get if that person comes back. Okay thattriggered the process. I wrote it last weekend. Along with theprevious poem. But during the course of this week, that person came back. Sothe reality of the context does not exists. So I thought this will be agood way to show how to take a little idea and blow it as big aspossible, taking simple words and images from reality itself.
Tides came and gone with the moon,
Still echoed the roar of the sea,
More inside the mind and mind swooned,
Opened eyes watched memories in the swollen waves flee.
Oh’ the memories of the liar in me,
The one in whispers lied and lied ,
That the love I felt for you was an unreal plea,
Of mind in beauty and charms bide.
Why ye left love to the monstrous dark?
Tightening chains, mind from inside bound,
The flow of the world making thoughts stark,
Leaving love in soul an un-healable wound.
Step back in time, the healer ever forgiving,
Back at those sunny spring and summer days look,
Days and nights spent in ones own soul rediscovering,
In each other’s mind from where love we took.
Now each other we both lost,
In distant deserts where spring never blooms,
Only mirages we both see of each other’s paths we crossed,
And the paths ahead filled with mists of gloom.
Come back, O dear, come back, with smile so bright,
The love ye sought in fulfillment still in this heart reigns,
In the blinding dark give a lost soul love filled sight,
And enlighten your own soul from loveless pain.
Come back and the looming silence you break,
From a heart that dwells in the realm of gloom,
And in your silence forever ache,
And will wait even beyond the day of doom.
Now here is something I am starting to work on…. maybe some of youcan also work with this. “Stepdad’s crimes, his authority, his passion,his vigilance. Themother’s helplessness, Their love, the mother’s love… the chaos ofall in everyday life. The heart so frozen with every given day gone by.Freedom from it all an oasis far far away.” This is how I make an idea.I got this idea during writing a comment for another post. As I haven’tdealt with a step dad or step mom situation I really have to dig deep intomy imagination to write this. Some of you who have dealt with suchsituations will be able to express this idea more realistically. Let meknow so that we can compare the works.
Have a great weekend.