Pain & Poetry

[Syndra Lynn]

Seriously. I can't be the only one with this problem. If I am in pain, I can be a brilliant poet. Happiness dulls the wits or the senses or something. I've written about it repeatedly! Here are 3 short examples:

http://www.literotica.com/stories/showstory.php?id=134441


why does poetry elude me when i smile?


i need pain to tear the poetry from my soul
happiness dulls my senses
makes me clichéd and metaphoric
boring to my core

deep weeping floods it from my depths
pours it on my shore to see
sift through the pieces
to find the pristine shells of hope


Ugly Muse

ugly fucking muse
on dark emotions feeds
sucks me dry, makes me cry
brings me to my knees

I scream and flail
she laughs and smiles
till tear-stained paper lies,
smudged with ink,
a thing of beauty
at my feet

vicious witch!
all along she knew
cathartic healing
for my soul



So where does the poetry flee to when I am happy and the sun is shining on my life? Why can't I have poetry and happiness?

Weigh in here! I want to know if I am alone in this mired little mess or if I am merely normal.

Bless you poets, for you have bled!

Syn

 

[WickedEve]

Poetry Chyme, that you link to, is really quite good. And hi there, Syndra.

The other two examples? Not saying that they're bad at all, but I don't think pain is helping them as much as you may think it is. Maybe you find them to be more intense because of the emotions behind them. I'd rather see a poet, most of the time, focus their intense emotional pain on the creation of something besides a tear-from-my-soul/make-me-cry kind of poem.

Seriously, I bet you write beautifully when not in pain. Maybe you feel like poems of angst -- and written in pain -- are more brilliant, and I suppose they do come across with more power because of the subject matter.

I will admit, though, that I do tend to write more when I'm in my blue, black phases. I crave that outlet. Ever had a poem in your head that was like a sneeze? It feels so good when it comes out.

 

[champagne1982]

I hate to imagine that it takes pain to produce poetry (please note: I did NOT say anything about the quality of the poems). I always have poetry with me for the most part and if it takes pain, then I guess I'm always in it. It's better to think that my state of happiness more determines what kind of poems I write, rather than that I write them at all.

But maybe, because you feel more energy and need to get out more you don't concentrate on writing to keep you busy. Instead, you're out feeding your muse the sustenance she needs to get you through those moments when you are less than happy.

 

[Guest]

.............

 

[Syndra Lynn]

I think I gave the wrong impression...

I never implied my examples were GOOD poetry. I was simply pointing to them as examples of the fact that I have pointed to this issue in writing.

Seriously. When I am happy, what I write seems to suck! I get so cliché.

I will admit, though, that I do tend to write more when I'm in my blue, black phases. I crave that outlet. Ever had a poem in your head that was like a sneeze? It feels so good when it comes out.

The Perfect Poem

It’s in me. I can feel it,
like that tickle before you sneeze,
or the ache of hunger.

I can sense it,
like the scent of spring lilacs
before you know they’re in bloom

I can see it,
neat black words perfectly arranged,
and shining like new copper

I can hear the meter clicking,
tick-tock-ticking, with rhymes
sometimes in the middle of lines.

It’s right on the tip of my tongue,
so close I can taste it!
So why can’t I write it?

***

Maybe it is just that I need the release valve when I am blue. Anyway, can YOU relate?

WRITE ON!

Syn

 

[Syndra Lynn]

Oh, and Eve,

NICE tatttoo.

 

[WickedEve]

Now see? The sneeze inspired you and it doesn't sound painful. It's good. Much better than having poetry ripped painfully from your soul!

 

[Liar]

I wish I could write worth a damn when I'm even the little bit blue. My muse needs fuzzy merry feelings and a good night's sleep to help me out with anything. I have to be through and truly out of a pissy mood before I'm able to write about it.

If I'm depressed, hurting, angry, stressed, tired, annoyed or even just bored, there be no poetry.

 

[Syndra Lynn]

I wish I could write worth a damn when I'm even the little bit blue. My muse needs fuzzy merry feelings and a good night's sleep to help me out with anything. I have to be through and truly out of a pissy mood before I'm able to write about it.

If I'm depressed, hurting, angry, stressed, tired, annoyed or even just bored, there be no poetry.

You must be happy a lot 'cause your poetry ROCKS brother!

Good for you.

So that's good to know. There can be poetry beyond the veil of angst. I'll work on it.

Blessings!

Syn

 

[Homburg]

Not that I'm much of a poet, but real pain turns me utterly self-indulgent. Happiness turns me cliche. I think I work best when fretting, mulling things over. And it reauires a certain headspace energy-wise too. It's very fickle and fine, and why I say I'm not much of a poet. Well, aside from the crashing lack of talent

 

[Anschul]

The Magic Little Pill

I haven't figured it out yet either. My emotions are in the control of a daily medication, the doctor calls it "depression," and since I started taking it I don't seem to get mad quite as often. I'm not sure what that means.

Here's something that just blurted out in about ten minutes (you all, the great poets, can probably tell). I'm still trying to figure out the answer. Maybe some day I will.
Cheers.
Anschul

What made me mad today?
The news, the kids, the job...
It's always something new
That turns my insides out
And upside down.

What is this thing
That eats at me,
And eats and eats,
Salved only by the little pill
That brings my head in line.

That magic little pill.
The doctor said it isn't me,
But chemical imbalance
That has me running sideways
Getting nowhere fast.

Without the magic pill
My nerves are all ajangle,
My head is holding fast
To steam pushing on my ears
Escaping my insides.

Without the magic pill
I mope around all day
Seeing ghosts of tragedy past,
Fighting to stay in the moment
And failing badly.

Without the magic pill
Nothing around here gets done,
My inhibitions soar,
I can't find a way to write
A single sentence.

I read words from others
Who cry out in pain,
Who say they need that pain
To find the way to catharsis.
I cannot relate.

The pain is always there
Hovering just below the surface,
But I cannot feel it.
But I know it is there; I keep it at bay
With that little pill.

The loved ones say they can tell
When I am feeling the pain,
"Did you take your pill today?"
Says the love of my life.
She can always tell.

So I take the little pill
To hold the pain hostage for another day.
Erasing all the memories;
I push the demons back under the bed;
The sadness goes away.

Where does it go?
Am I dealing with the causes?
Am I living in denial of something worse?
What are the memories doing
As I medicate?

Today I took my little pill.
How did I write this poem?
Where did the emotions come from?
How did I find these words?
Is it something else?

Maybe it's not the memories.
Maybe the doctor is right.
Maybe the demons aren't just below
The surface of my consciousness.
I'm writing now, aren't I?


By the way, Eve, I'm working on something about that tattoo. The working title is "Eve's Rose."

 

[WickedEve]

Not that I'm much of a poet,

That's nonsense!
Check this out ---> poem

 

[CeriseNoire]

I used to think I could only write when I was unhappy, but like Homburg, I come rather self-indulgent then.
What I have found lately is that works for me is to jot down the ideas, thoughts and phrases that come to me in the moment, and then close my notebook an put it away. When I come back to it, I find that I'm better able to pick out what's worthwhile and build a poem from it when the emotion is no longer so raw.

 

[Homburg]

That's nonsense!
Check this out ---> poem

I didn't really like that one. Couldn't make the words sit right on my tongue when I read it aloud. Thank you though.

-----

I used to think I could only write when I was unhappy, but like Homburg, I come rather self-indulgent then.
What I have found lately is that works for me is to jot down the ideas, thoughts and phrases that come to me in the moment, and then close my notebook an put it away. When I come back to it, I find that I'm better able to pick out what's worthwhile and build a poem from it when the emotion is no longer so raw.

Interesting idea. There is power in pain, but disorganisation, lack of vision. All you see is the pain, and it overrides good linguistic and structural choices in effort to crash out on the page. This allows you to tap into the power without losing sight. Cool.

 

[WickedEve]

I didn't really like that one. Couldn't make the words sit right on my tongue when I read it aloud. Thank you though.

Oh.

Anyway...

 

[unpredictablebijou]

I used to think I could only write when I was unhappy, but like Homburg, I come rather self-indulgent then.
What I have found lately is that works for me is to jot down the ideas, thoughts and phrases that come to me in the moment, and then close my notebook an put it away. When I come back to it, I find that I'm better able to pick out what's worthwhile and build a poem from it when the emotion is no longer so raw.

This is an excellent point, and I believe I'm rather similar. When I'm all dramatic, I can come up with some fine phrases that are useful later on, but I rarely write anything complete that's really worth saving.

I didn't really like that one. Couldn't make the words sit right on my tongue when I read it aloud. Thank you though.

See, there ya go. Eve's right; that's a great piece. Sometimes you just have to let other people tell you what works for them, and accept that. Once you write something and give it to an audience, it doesn't really belong to you any more. It goes out to develop its own relationships after that.

bj

 

[Tzara]

Writing is mostly a formal or intellectual exercise for me, kind of like doing a crossword puzzle. I tend to think my way through a poem, which is probably why they often end up kind of sterile. So in pain, out of pain, deliriously happy, is all more or less the same thing. Not relevant.

Having said that, I am at a time in life that is pretty darn equilibrious. I'm very happily married, neither my wife nor I (nor our parents) have any particular health problems, we're pretty well settled financially, have no children (so no worries about their future). So I don't have a lot to get upset about, other than that my job can be frustrating, and that is, frankly, a pretty minor problem.

I do admire those of you who can blast out a poem from emotion. I always think particularly of annaswirls, who in her best poems has a wonderful ability to make me feel things she has experienced. (I assume. Maybe she's making all of that up. )

Anyway, writing from pain has an honored tradition. Just check out Sylvia Plath's late poems. Brilliant and scary.

I can't do that. I'm not sure I would want to.

 

[Anschul]

By the way, Eve, I'm working on something about that tattoo. The working title is "Eve's Rose."

Wicked Eve,
See my blurt Here.

Just a little thing. Can't decide whether or not to post it on the main page. Thoughts?
A

 

[Liar]

So that's good to know. There can be poetry beyond the veil of angst. I'll work on it.

Poetry can often be ABOUT the veil of angst. Or about the angst. But like Tz said, writing it is thought and method. Writing poetry is, for me, careful and planned acts of communication.

Try communicating to others exactly what you're pissed off at, when you're so pissed off that you can't even put words on it for yourself.

If you can do that, I envy you for having what must be called instinctual wit.

 

[Homburg]

See, there ya go. Eve's right; that's a great piece. Sometimes you just have to let other people tell you what works for them, and accept that. Once you write something and give it to an audience, it doesn't really belong to you any more. It goes out to develop its own relationships after that.

bj

*grumbles*

 

[WickedEve]

Wicked Eve,
See my blurt Here.

Just a little thing. Can't decide whether or not to post it on the main page. Thoughts?
A

I just saw the tattoo poem. My tattoo? Here's a pic from a couple of days ago that shows a better closeup of my tat.
bdsm/sun tattoo

And yes, I usually look kind of serious, maybe a little mean...

 

[WickedEve]

*grumbles*

meow
hiss hiss

I still like the damn poem.

 

[Anschul]

I just saw the tattoo poem. My tattoo? Here's a pic from a couple of days ago that shows a better closeup of my tat.
bdsm/sun tattoo

And yes, I usually look kind of serious, maybe a little mean...

Be Still, my heart!

 

[loststar]

I am not in any way claiming that what I write is worth the space it takes up, but I frequently write when in angish, pain or anger... and as I pull the posion from my soul and let it settle on to the page I find that often it makes a verse that is pleasing to me... I am not an english major, heck by some standards I am not much of a writer, but I find the more intense my emotions are the better the piece, wither it be happy, sad or down right bored, the more powerful the imput, the more powerful the poem. Yet with that being said, I am constantly revising my work, polishing up what was once raw, and opening it up to be seen by all.

 

[Homburg]

meow
hiss hiss

I still like the damn poem.

Y'know, I have my cats toeing the line. I know how to deal with recalcitrant felines.

You are perfectly welcome to like it, and I am honestly glad to see that you appreciate it. I was just making the comment that I never could get that one to speak properly.

Okay, it's a wee bit better in a cheesy Scottish accent.