interpretation
is 90%
of the poetry game
maybe that’s why i write so bluntly
so obviously
sans metaphor
sans simile
so the interpretation can be
exactly what it was meant to be
[or is this just another example
of me trying to hold on to control
of a thing i really can’t control at all?]
letting a poem end
where it wants to end,
though you have so many postscripts and parentheticals to add/
explanation and context a reader may need/
something a little extra so you’re not misunderstood/
but letting a poem end
and stand
where it wants to let be
and let free
is a thing of bravery —
i’m learning
i’m learning
sometimes
sometimes
sometimes
i want the
aesthetic /
the vibe
of writing
pen and paper /
ink and quill /
notebook
and brain
and nothing
else, but
oftentimes
that is just
too much /
too hassle /
too out of my
abilities in
this world,
so i simply
vibe and vibe
and write
and write and
create in the
best way i
can — laptop
and fingers
and my brain
that simply
will not quit.
what you need to understand
[‘you’ in this case meaning
a new reader to this poetry blog]
is that i do not write poetry
carefully
i do not rewrite and rerewrite and rererewrite —
i throw some ideas on my keyboard
and sometimes they become words
and sometimes those words fit together
just enough
to become a poem.
i don’t write with purpose
except to get more and more art out into the world
[and get these loud loud stanzas out of my head]
i don’t write for perfectionism’s sake
since perfectionism runs/ruins the rest of my life.
what you need to understand
is that this will never be
e.e. [cummings]
or dickinson [comma] emily
or bukowski
or angel nafis
or rupi
[though my shorter poems definitely emulate her]
these poems are rarely edited
barely re-read
not much adjusted to page from my head —
there’s no rhyme scheme
except
what sometimes fits together happenstance-ily,
and helping the chaos
reign itself in
is what i’m doing with these words
again and again and again —
so please,
heed my warning,
don’t expect much literarily from these words/phrases/stanzas/poems —
but expect me to show up
as i am this [and every] morning
and get something out
from me
to myself
[and then to you, if you want to read it]
[no pressure tho]
approaching the end of this poem part of my day
and finding out
i still have so much to say
and i’ve not yet said it
even in 325 plus words
…nerds
[as an exclamation]
(do i still need to approach each day’s poetry
with the goal of 300 full words?
have i gotten over my weird breaks in my routine?
am i still recovering from skipping
or am i finally free
to do whatever
pleases me)
(and is a 300 word goal
a pleasure
or a prison-box?)
at least i
can somehow make my
direst terrible feelings
fly
into beautiful words
and verses of pure emotion
while i sit by
and feel it
feel it’s
overwhelming me
daily
but in a few days/weeks/months maybe
hopefully
i’ll look back and think of it as art
only took five whole days
to get back into the swing of this
writing
and feeling good about my writing/
confident that i have something to say
and the ability to say it
in a unique and clever way.
i still am probably not as good as i want to be
but maybe i’m close to
how good i
think
i am
sometimes
you just have to write
some nonsense
before the words
start to
make some sense
in your body
(in your brain)
ever write poetry
with a rhyme scheme in your mind
from an un-written line,
one you decided wasn’t worth the fight/
the force of putting it in,
but the next line rhymes so fittingly
that you insert it just so —
and when you read the flow
you still speak it as though
that first line is still there
(you just don’t say it out loud)
and it all fits together
with phrases in your mind —
and you wonder
if a reader
who isn’t just you
could feel that it flows,
even though the flow
may not be as obvious
as it is to you…
anyone else do that too?
kipventures 