PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I have something to say, the poet posits. I want you to see how my walls are decorated. See my trophies, see my experiences. My tools for painting are brand new, give me time to make them conform to my emotional fingers. We all start somewhere. Earlier work may be lean, but later, after reading great motifs, excellent lay-outs, imaginative configurations of words words words and more words, I will evolve and continue to evolve. By chance or art, I will contrive a motif worthy of my mentors, worthy of my mind, and my emotions. Method and patience equal art. Style will occur and I will read it an wonder did I truly write that. 

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Some give up - unable to attain what others have attained. The me in us, the instant coffee instead of the carefully measured and brewed cuppa is our lot, most of us. The ego declares I want to do it like you did and better. The reality is a hard lesson. Sad that a human stops an adventure with words; it is basically the only worth while tool we own. It is hoped that eventually the pen finds itself in the fingers trying to emote on paper. Not next year, maybe, or the year after, but once bitten by a muse, it is viral and never goes away; it is held at bay by the literacy vaccine. Like an antidote to cure life, your stories protect the need for legacy. If 80 and finally the need returns, then 80 years of remembered bliss and god awful pain will evenually turn up and pour out of the body like a hard rain or a good sweating. We shed our pasts like skin. We walked here, occasionally ran, or limped; but know the world that we leave unwillingingly. We were here and this is what we dreamed and did, felt and attained, wanted and gave. We are poets. We will be until we stop breathing. Our hope is that a thousand years from today, we will be discovered. Yeah. Our egos are that outrageous.

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The demands of living call us away from the solitary endeavor of sharing a few notions, painting a few word-portraits, but eventually we return after short or long hiatus. Reality must be explored. colors internalized, air breathed, people and objects touched. New emotions will have grown to fruition and must be consumed. Yet, there is a wondrous summons to write human emotions, to record from sensitivities, and perhaps one day someone will find your scribbles and take inspriation or insight from them. Each of us carries a unique pouch full of wisdom earned and needing to be spent. That, after all, is the point. The only point for writing it down from jump.

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I'm just sayn'. :D

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Stella L. Crews