Writing poetry is to literature as painting is to art. It's a painting of words, so to speak.
Over the weekend I received two poems from friends abroad.
My friend Joan wrote that she thought of me and got inspired to write a poem. We had met up last year to agree with each other that there must be more to life than working in the city, making lots of money early and fast, and then retiring before you're too old to enjoy it. I showed her my existence when I'm off duty: the simple life of cycling, playing the piano, picking berries, and cooking. I could tell that she wanted to do something else. What a joy it is to receive her poem as a start to her path towards creativity and alternative living!
My friend Bill had read me his poems when I first met him in Houston. He would like to publish them someday. I'm pleased to receive his latest poem and publish it as a featured poem in the analyticalQ collection of original poetry. His poem has a unique style developed over the years. Perhaps living in Tokyo has inspired him to think of East Texas.
I haven't written a poem in awhile. It requires inspiration, triggered by emotion or beauty. When I'm angry, I'm inspired to write parodies. The latest one - Where have all the money gone? they've gone to crooks, everyone. Oh when will we ever earn? Oh when will we ever learn!
8 October 2002 Tuesday
Recommend this page to a friend: