I’ve always felt that changes, especially the ones that break bones and force a brain to rethink the shape of her skeleton, can be blessings. So, when Rommy asked for posts birthed by change one wasn’t quite sure about at first but was delighted by in the end, I thought, Poetry, which began as a necessity for me (when I just couldn’t handle long pieces).
If you knew me then, you already know that welcoming poetry into my life wasn’t the easiest of things. I didn’t care for it. I didn’t think poetry could ever satisfy me in the way fiction did (oh, stop laughing already!). You see, I thought poetry and fiction would fight for my attention, and I worried about not being able to properly nourish either of my loves.
My initial worries were partially correct, at first. It wasn’t easy to give enough ink-time to poetry and enough ink-time to fiction. Then, after a year (or was it three?), I noticed Charles Baudelaire’s words, (which I might’ve stolen from Kerry’s blog *cough*), “Always be a poet, even in prose”, and realized that what I needed was abandon and balance in ink.
The following poem bit, which I’m linking to Poets United, was born out of those thoughts (and the creepily-cute moon at the end of the post):
Sun light is my favorite
food for flesh,
but my soul feasts best
on the dark of the moon.
I’ve been rewriting old stories and poems, in an effort to feed my not-so-newly found need to be a poet in prose and a prose-writer in poetry. The process is… soul-filling (and perfect for this time in my life). I’m hoping to be able to share some of the fruits of my ink-labor before winter’s end. In the meantime, I shall delight in this old surprise which feeds me anew.
this creepily-cute moon (crafted by Dark Town Sally) was a gift from the one and only, Mistress Emma (of Groovy Gothic), who knows exactly how to make me bloom in grins (Thank you, my dearest Emma)