 Poetry: January 19, 2022 Issue [#11174] |
This week: Real and True Edited by: Fyn  
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As you get older, you want less from the world; you just want to experience it. Any barriers to feeling emotions get dismantled. And ordinary things become beautifully poetic. ~~Richard Linklatter
Feelings or emotions are the universal language and are to be honored. They are the authentic expression of who you are at your deepest place. ~~Judith Wright
Genius is the ability to renew one's emotions in daily experience. ~~Paul Cezanne
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Life is rarely all happy daisies and cupcake frosting. It has its low tides, its stormy nights, and its root canal moments. Incredible highs and death-defying lows are all a part of the see-saw that is a life lived. Grief can swamp a soul every bit as must as a romantic high can take one soaring through the stars.
Writing both from and through the varying emotions adds power to your words. Writing is a stellar way to interpret the world around you at any given time. Letting the emotions out in your words helps dispel them, even the keel, so to speak. Being able to put the emotions good or bad in poetry can be both cathartic and healing.
More, it can make for some extremely vivid poetry as you let the emotions take flight and, in a way, become something 'other'. That 'otherness' is what adds layers and dimension to your words. Finding metaphors for what you are feeling lets can give the writer some space, some distance, and some perspective.
That step-away perspective can regulate the ultra highs and mitigate the lows. It is what lets you be able to express what you are feeling and let go of some of it.
I've lost three very dear and special people in the last few months, the most recent is losing my brother. It has seemed like every time I've gotten out of the swamp and on mostly steady ground, whoooosh! I'm tossed back into that miasma of grief, swirled with all the old stories that inevitably arise. And yet. being a social species, it is those stories that have carried me through, let me laugh once again, and provided that bit of perspective that let me move forward and deal with all the 'stuff' once must deal with when they are the one all those final details fall to.
I've been mostly numb since Saturday. Next to no sleep and what sleep there was, plagued by nightmares. I've had all the emotional support one could ask for. I've been strong, haven't 'fallen apart' as yet, and have been taking all those steps that one must take. I'll fall apart later. But today, I feel better than I have in days and it dawned on me it really was because today, I wrote a poem about my brother.
It wasn't long. And, I expect, over time, there will be more. This poem only touched on one facet of the gem my big brother truly was. But releasing that bit of pain, made me smile and I feel lighter. |
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Monty  says: You have said it in another way but I always thought of a poem as a story in a language of its own. It builds a story without wasting words and at times leaves you with a story that stays with you forever. I read The Leak In The Dike by Phoebe Cary long ago. I can still that little boy with his arm in the hole in the dike.
Just a stray thought that keeps circling around. I talked to my brother three days before he unexpectedly passed away. A call of no special consequence except that it turned out to be the last conversation he and I would ever have. The last words we said to each other were 'I love you.'
Always let the folks you care about know that. It really is important. ~~fyn
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