I haven't written a poem in five years. Now, I was never much of a poet to begin with. I have always preferred fiction. There is a freedom, in prose, to ramble and lose yourself in tangents. It is, by all accounts, the more forgiving method of writing. And, truthfully, I have never been particularly good at poetry. You could say that's subjective and I would say that I have personally met some of the most talented poets of my generation and it is not, actually, subjective. Not one bit. Its a skill that can be honed, but one where a natural affinity either is or is not present. I'm not a terrible poet, I'm just not a very good one. Even in short form I have always written songs, preferring to hear melodies and music as I spill my words.
Poetry has always been a little bit mythical for me. When people talk of muses and the sort of divine inspiration that comes with being an artists, poetry is what it brings to mind. I have never, for instance, plotted a poem. I've never edited one. They appear, when they appear, wholly formed. In a moment of creative fury I put them down on paper and that's it. The feeling is gone. The magic, if that's what it can be called, is used up all at once. It strikes when it strikes and never by choice. I have pulled over on highways, left meetings, ignored classes and family dinners, ended phone calls and interrupted post-coital cuddling because I had to write something down. Fiction is different. There's always a source for it. I can trace the idea for every story I have ever composed back to a handful of specific, if unrelated, bits of inspiration. Different things that came together and gave me an idea. Fiction, therefore, seems much more logical to me.
I can't edit a poem. I can't change character names, descriptions of places, the subtle but flowery details that come with a love of language and a vivid mental picture. I can't move chapters around to make the narrative flow better. I can't eliminate whole threads because they went nowhere. A poet, of course, will tell you that you can absolutely do those things. That poet is fucking wrong. She can do those things. I can not. You, its likely, can not. For me, a finished poem is one that is out of my brain and on the page. Further examination of it can only tell me if I like the piece or if I should save it into a file filled with songs and poems and half-thought short stories that I tell myself are works-in-progress but are really just mental abortions. They are twisted, awkward things, shambling around with acne-ridden faces and treatises on war and politics and the semi-incestuous relationship between fantasy and heavy metal. The kind of thing that, if it went to school with you even your least socially adept friends would pity it. They aren't inherently bad, my basement-dwelling creations. They're incomplete. Or, rather, incompleteable. Perhaps that's too harsh, but I would encourage you, non-poets, to sit down and write a poem and then, upon being dissatisfied, try to edit it into something palatable. You can't because poetry is a thing of divinities and you, poor bastard, are as mundane as I.
I'm not saying poetry is the most difficult thing in the world. In fact, a few of my poet friends struggle mightily with fiction for a variety of reasons that have nothing to do with their implied magical natures. I give them advice, if and when they ask, but the truth is that fiction requires discipline and poetry requires you to be some kind of a god damned ancient Greek creatrix.
I'm not even sure what led me to musing about how long its been since I wrote a poem. But, I suppose that's the point to this whole thing isn't it? It just fucking came to me, all at once, without rhyme or reason, and now that it's out I'll probably never consider it again. Well, except as an example in five years when I wonder why I don't write blog posts like I did in my angsty teenage years. Or, for that matter, in my mid-twenties.
Look for it around 2022, probably posted directly above this one.
Yours,
-S.R.
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