Sunday, 19 August 2018

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DEAR POET, LET YOUR MUSE LEAD




In my early days of writing poems, I was a bit tight-fist with my works. I didn't like putting them out on social media for people to read neither did I allow even my close friends access to my writing pad.


As I look back now, I think the reason for that was my weak usage of imageries for poems that were offshoots of my personal/private life. As a secretive person, I usually felt the poems were not cryptic enough and that I would be putting out the finest details of my life, if I allowed just anyone to read my poems. And I didn't want the vulnerability that would come with that.


I think I also feared that my poems were substandard or what I would later call 'watery poems' but now I know better, that there is no such thing as a good or bad poem. That if the lines are original and not cliché ridden, then it is a 'good' poem.


Writing continuously for these few years have taught me that poetry as an art is a shrine and every poet is his own god! So when I do a piece and throw it out for criticism or editing and the editor prunes out its very essence, I lay aside the edit and follow the lead of my muse. Because this art of mine is a shrine and I am the only goddess therein. 


I'm getting a lot more confident about my writings. It is true that doubts come in, once in a while but when it does, I remember the few awards I have won and the comments I have gotten from older and experienced poets, then I get over the blue feeling.


 Justas a blind man places his hand on the shoulder of whoever is leading him, a poet must place his hand on the shoulders of his muse and allow it lead him to where he can scoop original lines. This, I have done for years and will continue doing. And if you have ever wondered how I came about a piece then you should try it.


As poets, we must realize that poetry is like painting and our pens are the paintbrushes. On some days, a poet dips his brushes in tears and writes wet lines. On other days, he dips it in blood and writes lines that would stain many a heart. But every time he must dissolve the powdered paint with his emotions, step aside and watch it break into lines and verses. Poetry is literally freedom, enjoy it!


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