Creativity and honesty and poetry

[purplesunshine]

Honestly, I feel as though I tripped over a paint can and am being called the “next great thing” in modern art. And I can’t make heads or tails of modern art much in the same way of poetry.

It’s not that I’m scared of my gift. I’m already a published writer many times over in things from small-town newspapers to national magazines. I do advertising bits for work and even freelance a bit. I LIKE writing. I just dislike poetry.

To me it seems very false to produce something that you cannot stand, much less see any value in. Writing doesn’t pay much, so I’m not worried about ill-gotten gains I just feel kinda bad putting more of something I dislike into the world. Even if others like it.

 

[hitched]

Honestly, I feel as though I tripped over a paint can and am being called the “next great thing” in modern art. And I can’t make heads or tails of modern art much in the same way of poetry.

It’s not that I’m scared of my gift. I’m already a published writer many times over in things from small-town newspapers to national magazines. I do advertising bits for work and even freelance a bit. I LIKE writing. I just dislike poetry.

To me it seems very false to produce something that you cannot stand, much less see any value in. Writing doesn’t pay much, so I’m not worried about ill-gotten gains I just feel kinda bad putting more of something I dislike into the world. Even if others like it.

Then the obvious solution is to just stop writing it.

Quit it.

hitched

 

[psalm42]

so much depends on

a red wheelbarrow

glazed with rain water

beside the white chickens

-william carlos williams

hopefully some inspiration.
(not in correct format)

 

[monicatholic]

Honestly, I feel as though I tripped over a paint can and am being called the “next great thing” in modern art. And I can’t make heads or tails of modern art much in the same way of poetry.

It’s not that I’m scared of my gift. I’m already a published writer many times over in things from small-town newspapers to national magazines. I do advertising bits for work and even freelance a bit. I LIKE writing. I just dislike poetry.

To me it seems very false to produce something that you cannot stand, much less see any value in. Writing doesn’t pay much, so I’m not worried about ill-gotten gains I just feel kinda bad putting more of something I dislike into the world. Even if others like it.

i’ve been published too. many times. i’ve been paid, too, many times. people have loved my poetry, i sold several hundred copies of single chap book of my poems ever published and once upon a time i was a featured poet at many live poetry reading events.

and my poems are substandard in almost every way. of the more than three hundred poems i’ve written, there are 2 good ones and a half more that might be considered a keeper.

how do i know? because now i read ***good ***poetry. every single day. and my poems are NOT it. (please, no meanderings off into ‘who’s to say what makes good poetry?’ there IS a standard.)

if you won’t read good poetry, you’re not writing good poetry. sim-plas-that. you may be writing popular poetry, at best. but if you’re writing popular poetry for poeple who don’t know, read and LOVE good poetry, your pop poetry is probably pretty bad.

a few ear marks of bad poetry:

if you ever had to explain or defend a poem-- it stinks as a poem.

if people say, “I love the way you express your feelings” the poem tanked and your audience doesn’t know it.

if your poems are better with an illustration of any kind-- it’s a bad poem-- maybe a nice greeting card, but a bad poem.

if you can set it to music, it’s probably a very bad ***modern ***poem and there’s no room for new old poems. it’s already been done.

here’s a little something i love. an excellent poem of splendid quirkiness:

**Your Catfish Friend **
by Richard Brautigan

*If I were to live my life
in catfish forms
in scaffolds of skin and whiskers
at the bottom of a pond
and you were to come by
one evening
when the moon was shining
down into my dark home
and stand there at the edge
of my affection
and think, “It’s beautiful
here by this pond. I wish
somebody loved me,”
I’d love you and be your catfish
friend and drive such lonely
thoughts from your mind
and suddenly you would be
at peace,
and ask yourself, “I wonder
if there are any catfish
in this pond? It seems like
a perfect place for them.”
*

 

[purplesunshine]

no, they say the love the imagery and meter/flow…gag me

I am actually not a reader despite being a writer, It’s not like I don’t enjoy books, but when you combine dyslexia with ADD and other learning disabilities reading becomes tough. I can probably count on one hand chapter books I’ve read all the way through without skimming. For the most part I listen to audio books, but still I miss a good portion as I’ll wander off into ADD land.

Reading poetry…welll getting past the first three lines or so is difficult. The trigger both my dyslexia and ADD MAJORLY and become so hard to read i get mixed up and simply can’t enjoy them.

I know reading is about practice, as my friend pointed out I’ve taught myself how to write decently because I’ve practiced. Still, reading, just like standard clocks remains quite elusive to me.

 

[hitched]

no, they say the love the imagery and meter/flow…gag me

I am actually not a reader despite being a writer, It’s not like I don’t enjoy books, but when you combine dyslexia with ADD and other learning disabilities reading becomes tough. I can probably count on one hand chapter books I’ve read all the way through without skimming. For the most part I listen to audio books, but still I miss a good portion as I’ll wander off into ADD land.

Reading poetry…welll getting past the first three lines or so is difficult. The trigger both my dyslexia and ADD MAJORLY and become so hard to read i get mixed up and simply can’t enjoy them.

I know reading is about practice, as my friend pointed out I’ve taught myself how to write decently because I’ve practiced. Still, reading, just like standard clocks remains quite elusive to me.

There are always a thousand reasons to not do something.

hitched

 

[hitched]

i’ve been published too. many times. i’ve been paid, too, many times. people have loved my poetry, i sold several hundred copies of single chap book of my poems ever published and once upon a time i was a featured poet at many live poetry reading events.

and my poems are substandard in almost every way. of the more than three hundred poems i’ve written, there are 2 good ones and a half more that might be considered a keeper.

how do i know? because now i read ***good ***poetry. every single day. and my poems are NOT it. (please, no meanderings off into ‘who’s to say what makes good poetry?’ there IS a standard.)

if you won’t read good poetry, you’re not writing good poetry. sim-plas-that. you may be writing popular poetry, at best. but if you’re writing popular poetry for poeple who don’t know, read and LOVE good poetry, your pop poetry is probably pretty bad.

a few ear marks of bad poetry:

if you ever had to explain or defend a poem-- it stinks as a poem.

if people say, “I love the way you express your feelings” the poem tanked and your audience doesn’t know it.

if your poems are better with an illustration of any kind-- it’s a bad poem-- maybe a nice greeting card, but a bad poem.

if you can set it to music, it’s probably a very bad ***modern ***poem and there’s no room for new old poems. it’s already been done.

here’s a little something i love. an excellent poem of splendid quirkiness:

**Your Catfish Friend **
by Richard Brautigan

*If I were to live my life
in catfish forms
in scaffolds of skin and whiskers
at the bottom of a pond
and you were to come by
one evening
when the moon was shining
down into my dark home
and stand there at the edge
of my affection
and think, “It’s beautiful
here by this pond. I wish
somebody loved me,”
I’d love you and be your catfish
friend and drive such lonely
thoughts from your mind
and suddenly you would be
at peace,
and ask yourself, “I wonder
if there are any catfish
in this pond? It seems like
a perfect place for them.”
*

This is a beautiful piece, particularly in view of the claim that Brautigan began writing after being institutionalized. Poetry is not a craft; the best of all writing comes from psychic pain, not cleverness. However, one not need resort to suicide, as he finally did, in order to legitimize one’s writing. When we take pain and turn it inside out we find art. When we take a disingenuous attachment to a questionable talent and spew forth observations without root, the result is sometimes commerce, but more often a dinner plate with nothing on it.

Thanks for posting his poem, Monicatholic. This moved me.

hitched

 

[monicatholic]

it moves me, too. very much so. in my opinion Brautigan is one of the most under-rated poets of the last generation.

there are several points I disagree with from your post, hitched. perhaps i misunderstand you.

first: Brautigan’s suicide was a tragedy of mental illness-- not a marketing ploy to legitimize his writing.

next: poetry is most certainly a craft.

and: not all pain is art, not vicevresa. at best, i can agree with you on this to this extent: IF, ***IF ***we take may pain and turn it inside out to find art, that does not hold true for all pain (not true for MOST pain) and it doesn’t hold true as the heart of all art. finally, i would assert that in the instances it is true, ***the turning ***of it inside out ***is *** in fact, the careful act of crafting.

i wish purplesunshine would post something so that we can assess whether she is 'the “next great thing.” most “next great things” have worked tirelessly to produce seemingly effortless and brilliantly serendipitous works.

 

[purplesunshine]

I can’t post the others while they are in consideration. If I do I null the contract. I have to tell you, though much to my surprize, poetry pays better than freelance. Go figure.

This is an excerpt of one that’s not up for consideration.

*Each crystal is illuminated by passing rays
the trees bear its silken draperies
sounds and colors we’ve come to desire
are muted into submission.

A singular color is a promise of hope
the chill is a blanket of life
the silence is speaking to truth
to slumber is to grow.*

Whether its trash or not I don’t really care. It’s the publishing something in a genere that I think is stupid.

And I’m decently published and well-praised for my work. I like writing and it’s a key part of my job…so I don’t get paid per piece or per word, but that’s really built into my daily duties so technically I’m paid to write. I can’t tell you how many professors and librarians have been appalled at my lack of being able to read well or my unedited spelling.

 

[monicatholic]

purplesunshine, this is important:

Whether its trash or not I don’t really care. It’s the publishing something in a genere that I think is stupid.

i think you should care whether it’s trash or not. if it’s trash and you keep churning it out, you’re a panderer-- a hack. surely, a sense of integrity would cause one to avoid pandering.

furthermore, if you are certain poetry is stupid, you would be paid to pollute. the world is simply drowning in fourth rate poetry, PurpleS. perhaps contributing to silence would be a more pure service to God and man?

finally, in goodwill to you and in love of the craft of poetry, what you’ve submitted are less than stellar lines. it’s mediocre student work bearing some evidence that it can be improved upon.

 

[hitched]

it moves me, too. very much so. in my opinion Brautigan is one of the most under-rated poets of the last generation.

there are several points I disagree with from your post, hitched. perhaps i misunderstand you.

first: Brautigan’s suicide was a tragedy of mental illness-- not a marketing ploy to legitimize his writing.

next: poetry is most certainly a craft.

and: not all pain is art, not vicevresa. at best, i can agree with you on this to this extent: IF, ***IF ***we take may pain and turn it inside out to find art, that does not hold true for all pain (not true for MOST pain) and it doesn’t hold true as the heart of all art. finally, i would assert that in the instances it is true, ***the turning ***of it inside out ***is *** in fact, the careful act of crafting.

i wish purplesunshine would post something so that we can assess whether she is 'the “next great thing.” most “next great things” have worked tirelessly to produce seemingly effortless and brilliantly serendipitous works.

Points well taken.

Please know that I never intended to suggest that Brautigan’s suicide was a marketing ploy. I am personally familiar with mental illness, having suffered all of my life with a crippling disorder. I just found it interesting that he pursued it after institutionalization. Maybe that experience offered him the only time in his life where he had the actual time to sit and write.

hitched