Good morning. I just woke up.
I had my reservations when deciding to join the Promising Poets Cafe, but as Jingle explained the rules in more detail in his comment to this post, I decided it to give it a go. Besides, it would be awesome to read some new material.
I couldn’t have been more right. I found some amazing pieces of poetry… it goes to show that you can find beauty anywhere, you just have to know where to look. Anyway, I did my reading just now (I’ve posted comments on three so far) and it’s a refreshing change to most of the nonsense that the Internet feeds me every morning. Don’t get me wrong, I love nonsense. haha. I love humor. But it’s nice to have a cup of coffee and read some insightful verses for a change, as early int the morning as this. I don’t read that much poetry online now, and I kinda missed it. I can’t believe I didn’t do this earlier.
What I noticed is that most of the poems I found beautiful are poems about grief and misery. This made me wonder, “Do poets really need to bleed to juice out those kind of verses?” In my own experience, I think that in poetry, beauty and misery go hand in hand. I’ve always thought I’ve written some of my best poems when I’m sad. I have a couple of nice poems that portrays happy images, but I think they won’t compare to that force and emotion that poets always exhibit when in grief. It’s ironic how you would really like a particular piece of sad poem, which is kind of awkward, because it (in my own opinion) is kind of like saying, “Hey, writer, that’s awesome… I wish you were always this sad so you could write poems as beautiful as these,” although we all know that that’s truly not the point… it’s just that, sad poems do always have these complications. It’s like the morning after of a one-night stand: when all is said and done and everything is expressed and blurted out, all you want to do is get out of bed, walk away, and forget all about it… you would wish, but it will almost always haunt you back, because you cannot just ignore it no matter how much you make yourself believe that the events that led to it were trivial. Much like how you can’t just write a simple poem for your grief; it’s too important it deserves something this beautiful.
Anyway, time is always running. Everything passes, and years later we could look back at these events, at these poems we wrote off of one of the greatest muses that is misery, and say with a smile on our face… “I never regret I did that.”
Here’s one piece I particularly liked, from a blog called The 6th Symphony: