seconds click in which I'm changed to dust
whithered roots of knots and hairy rust
no one sees you on a vampire planet
no one sees you like I do
--Sparklehorse, "Sick of Goodbyes"
So earlier this week I was feeling kind of melancholy/depressed. (It sucked. I mean, I got thru February and March and April without long periods of being depressed like in other years, but in late May with the sun shining and a blue sky, there it is. Welcome to Melancholy, population, You.) I think it was mainly post-prom let-down, the coming down off the mountaintop thing or whatever, but it was a little deeper too. So I'm sitting there about 12:30 at night, not really wanting to go to bed, so I just grab a notepad and start writing a poem. Even as I did it, I figured this would be my usual procedure for writing poems: come up with something I think is good at 1 am, wake up next morning and realize it's crap. But I wrote it and it felt good, and I left it. And the next morning I realized it was actually readable, something that had never happened to one of my poems.
So of course I had to think about this, and I realized what made this poem different is that I meant it. Always before I had tried to convey some image or idea that I thought was cool/beautiful/whatever; but it was never me talking, just me trying to re-tell something from somewhere else. And I think that's how truly great writing comes about: people talking about things, telling stories, that only they can talk about, stories only they can tell. And suddenly I remember that's what alot of people have praised in stories of mine: "This is something you would write" in the same breath as "I liked it alot."
No, I'm not going to post it. I'm sure that, viewed objectively, it's crap, and it seems sappy even to me. Anyway, just my thoughts. I remember a while ago someone over in the NaNo forums said: "Even for authors that are better than me on every aspect (Shakespeare and Dante, etc.) there is one thing I can do that they can't."
That's it for now, I must go to bed.
Ethan
(Exit, pursued by a horde of angry undead authors)
8 comments:
Hey, hope you're feeling a little less blue.
About the poetry, if you can write anything that might possibly be considered poetry, then you're ahead of me. I keep meaning to try, but I'm not good at putting what I really think in writing... can't really talk about it coherently either.
Vale.
After a moment's serious/philosophical thought. I can't put stuff into words. I have a collection of my best visual art though that I've done and plan to do that shows my thoughts. You can tell how I'm felling by the subject matter I choose and when I use colors, the colors reflect that to.
vale
After a moment's serious/philosophical thought. I can't put stuff into words. I have a collection of my best visual art though that I've done and plan to do that shows my thoughts. You can tell how I'm felling by the subject matter I choose and when I use colors, the colors reflect that to.
vale
I would still like to read it. =) I like poetry, even if I still havent quite figured it out yet but beauty is in the eye of the beholder. You might think its sappy and someone else might think differently. ^_^ But hope you're feeling better.
Aaron: If you can dop anything remotely consiedered art, i admire you. I've tried, but even my stick figures beg me to kill them and put them out of their misery. :-P
Emily: Perhaps I will post it, or something, but you have to promise not to make fun. :-)
btw, I'm doing better now, thanks for asking. EEhehehhehehe........
I'd like to see the poem too; I love poems. I promise not to laugh. I posted one of my poems on my blog a couple weeks ago if you want to see it...
-Dee
Okay, mayhap.....
That's an awesome poem, btw. :)
Good ^_^ I look forward to reading it and I promise not to make fun of you. =P
Glad you're feeling better
Post a Comment