My tongue is in my hand…

Who really cares about poetry?

Posted on: November 19, 2009

I cycle through depressive states regarding writing. Regarding the point of it. I always come back to this- the point of it is for me to cope. I know that. (but it doesn’t change my moodiness about the whole thing) It is, for as long as I remember, how I cope. The person I talk to to work things out in my head is myself, through writing. It’s a big part of a lot of growth and movement personally, spiritually.

At the same time, I address all the world around me, through writing, whether they read it or not. But that’s where the depressing part comes in, particularly with poetry. No one really gives a shit about poetry, except maybe, for poets. But I don’t even really like reading other people’s poetry, so how can I think anyone wants to read mine? Maybe it’s like how some musicians can’t stomach certain “mass manufactured” music. But I am not, as an artist, a musician, so I don’t see it and can still enjoy it…

I’m digressing. The poetry thing…it’s just so pointless. Except when it’s not. When  a poem is pressing it’s way out of my pores, it matters so much. But then…what? There are journals and contests and other avenues to share poems and possibly be recognized as a talented writer, but it’s so annoying because they care so much about poetic stuff and I just write. I write and write and write. And yes, I have some dedicated persons who consistently lift me up and assure me that my writing matters to them…why can’t that be enough??

I feel like I’m hungry for something that I’m not even sure I want. I don’t crave a million people telling me my poems matter. I just want this select group that quite obviously just does not care. Why? Why is that?

That’s part of the reason I started the poetry art collaborative experiment, to try and do something with the poetry, to try and connect it to others (and maybe find that I don’t need that certain group… maybe I could make my own group…a group that does something with the poetry besides tell me it’s “good”, which is nice and I appreciate, but it leaves me hungering for more…). But that’s been quite a slow (discouraging) start. I’ m on hiatus from it (although I doubt anyone’s noticed!) and I don’t want to be a quitter so early into the project, but it seems a bit silly to keep at it.

Oh well, I have a couple more weeks, my mood will quite possibly be more positive then.

I just want my poetry to be part of something, like music is. You can write a song that becomes part of the world, part of society, part of memories and conversations…it’s a backdrop for a million different moments…what the hell does a poem do? Not a damn thing really. So annoying. If I weren’t so innately a poet, I would just stop. But I can’t. It’s part of me, if nothing else.


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