self-taught

I am not sure if I like poetry, or if it just the form I feel compelled to use. Many of my favorite writings are poems, but they needn't be.

I like short stories, for their brevity, and how I am able to consume so many of them. I love how they are able to at least begin a story, leaving me to fill in the blanks with my own experience. I love the idea of many stories, many thoughts. Classic novels are wonderful and rich, and can be more memorable. But they don't seem to teach me much more than a good poem might.

But here is where poems and I don't get along. There is a certain pressure in poetry, to make the rhymes work. To do it all... right.

I don't always desire that rightness. I hate rhymes that mean nothing, that just are. They don't add anything, and actually take away, because my mind is taken away, to wondering why the author felt the need to put two terrible words together.

I know many famous musicians have hated lyrics. Found no need for them. You can't very well sell an instrumental album after all. You can't sing along with that.

But I would rather write a blank page, than use words I don't mean.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

If only a god could speak into our world...

 "I used to write like I had something to say." I will never stop writing lines such as these. Who I was will always be a fool. A man who knew less than he ought to. A man who could not know enough. I am thankful to always be learning more. But it makes stating anything definitively quite difficult. I will always revise my words, my thoughts. My best thought will change. Human words and reason are of limited value to me. We are far too conditional. We think of all things relative to ourselves. We are limited by experience, our background, our money, our language. There is nothing which does not limit us. If you were to travel extensively, see it all, know all cultures, all countries, all language. Well, then you'd be limited by your affluence. There is no ideal. There is no great perspective. If anything, the poor and the broken see more clearly. If only a god could speak into our world. If only He had something to say. We might have to listen to that. . . . His words mak
Read more

Something Held On To

Today I just have a little poem for you. Hopefully you can figure out what location it is about. Its a place pretty dear to my heart. Generations of children have stood watch here. run barefooted, or hid flags in shadows. It is a fair view from this plateau, the young still run, still chase, still find. Not often does light hide beauty. Isn't till nightfall that I find what is mine. Embers grow tired and songs are fleeting, Lights, as in chorus, show up on time. I always find myself here. Near the seldom used beach, and unpicked strawberry fields. Just 'neath the farmer's reach. They start to dimly pulse, a field full of flashing lights. Grander than superbowl kickoff, there, alone, these firefly sights. I wrote this poem about my favorite place at camp. And its funny, because so often, people are taking pictures the other way. The sunset there is gourgeous, and the colors are really amazing through the trees. But after most people have gone to bed, th
Read more

Maybe a little too much

Image
You can definitely have too much or too little of someone. Anyone reading this has experienced both. I'm starting this blog for quite a few reasons. Pretty excited to have a place to smear my thoughts. Something like really seedy raspberry jam onto some not-quite-toasty toast. I think it will be just right. And as place for me to just write. heh. Glad to have you here. I will do my best to make this something worth reading, at least when you are really bored. Or when you are far away from all other human contact. Or just when you miss me. Because, be honest, I know you are out there. And you will never have an overproportioNate amount of me. I guess to start, I should let you know where I am at and a little about what you should expect to find here. I am in the 2 2/3rds year of being married. It has been excellent. My wife is without a doubt the best part of me. We are living on a quiet little block of Ortonville, right near the school. I have a pinball machine in my living r
Read more