Thursday, 13 October 2005

Forgive me, for I have sinned: it has been fifty-four days since my last blog.


Sometimes I wonder whether my poetry is 'poetry' at all, or if I ought to try writing prose instead. But I have tried it, unsuccessfully. At times there's only a fine line between poetry and prose. Perhaps we each should follow whatever form of writing it is whose common forms most closely follow the rhythm of our thoughts. And this is changeable from one piece to another.

If we try to force streams of inspiration into too unfamiliar a mould, they often don't ring true afterward. Traditional forms of poetic phrasing, or correct prosaic grammar, need not be the only ways - and some of the best writing is born from twisting, bending and even breaking completely out of them.

Of course, some folks might find that their inspiration forms itself into well-known poetic turns of phrase, especially rhyme... and others natually follow the full and poignant sentences of prose. But I usually find that my words do not follow more than a vague pattern, though when they do, it's something of an amusing surprise!

That being said, here's the first poemish thing I've written in MONTHs.

Divination, Divining, Divine?

What does it mean to let my spirit soar?
Is freedom from the here-and-now what I should seek,
and can it be found in these yearning, heart-wrenching thoughts of where I ought to be?

My mind roams over the mainland we left behind us -
surroundings that were, even if not specifically where we named Home, familiar.
Please don't tell me that freedom means trying to rid myself of this nostalgia.

What can be said for awkward words
that will never carry the weight of emotion
that a millisecond of longing can hold?

That clutching at the heart that memory holds,
when memory leads to the roads back to childhood...

~ posted by Anna @ 5:59 PM