A few days off….
To start off, I was out of town for a spell; visiting my parents and my brother’s family. It was great seeing them and all in all the love is still there. To be honest its even stronger.
During the plane rides (back and forth) I thought about writing. More so what directions I can go with a story. The development of characters; the struggle between good and evil of one’s self-worth. The climax of the conversation to change the action of the story. A lot of things came to mind. I believe I might have a plot development to finish off the middle part of my novel.
Strangely enough I thought of poetry. My thoughts race to inner conversations in creating a poem. The fears and regrets of a world create by me. I have no idea what it means to be a poet. I played around with poems throughout the years but they were still foreign to me. The idea of making a rhyme (most of the times my works didn’t rhyme) in a surreal manner I thought was a waste of time. But how is it a waste of time when it is coming from you, me?? That’s the question I kept pondering over. Over and over then I came to the conclusion—- “write from a space in you where the rational struggles with the irrational then form it to a coherent thought. I will practice in writing a quick poem; trust this is totally off the top of my head…
the spring like dance
make rose cry in the morning,
soil run free in the evening
all under wet like substance
birthing from the sky,
made me realized it wasn’t a lie….
Now that didn’t make any sense to me. What do you think? Is it coherent enough to display a functional creativity?
Or is it a rambling of a confused writer?