August 7, 2012

Soliloquy

Another near-poetic musing:

What romance so indwells the sunset? Why can I not sit alone on a hillside to watch the sky fade without feeling something missing? The evening breeze and the cricket song receive all the attention they deserve from this lone admirer, so why do they seem to wonder where He is? Perhaps the sky, the painted clouds, and the evening landscape are a bit shy, and prefer not to be my sole focus. So I concede, that I too am wondering where He is. I am, to be honest, a bit annoyed that the crickets brought it up. But, for the moment, it’s just me, and they’ll have to be content.

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June 25, 2012

Soliloquy

I’m not a poet, but I wish I were. Over the years I’ve mainly stuck to essay-style prose, because, frankly, it’s what I’m good at. It’s also easier. And safer. Most people judge an essay or article primarily by its content. As long as you have something worthwhile to say, you won’t necessarily fall flat on your face just because you’re not Wordsworth. Not that an essay shouldn’t be artful or beautiful, because I believe it should. It’s just that most people don’t judge that sort of writing as harshly.

Poetry is different. By definition, it draws attention to the words themselves — which words the poet uses, how they sound, how they play off one another. A poem has not only content, but form. It has to both mean and be. In short, you can say something great, but if your writing sucks, everyone knows. And you get laughed at. I don’t like being laughed at, so I have stayed away from poetry.

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