Poetic recession

[Liar]

My February blows chunks so far and I don't know why.

Ask me about poetry and theory and I'll write you a bleepin' essay. Ask me about a poem, and all you get is a blank stare.

Can't write them, can't read them, can't think them. So can't contribute in any way other than meta musings and random cheers.

I have the time, I have the will, all is right in my life (can definitely not do this otherwise), but the head's...just...not...there.

Suggestions?

 

[Angeline]

Take what you'd say in the essay and adapt it for a poem. That's what I'd try because it's where your ideas and opinions seem to be at the moment.

 

[Black13]

You got all your life to write. Go fishing.

 

[butters]

My February blows chunks so far and I don't know why.

Ask me about poetry and theory and I'll write you a bleepin' essay. Ask me about a poem, and all you get is a blank stare.

Can't write them, can't read them, can't think them. So can't contribute in any way other than meta musings and random cheers.

I have the time, I have the will, all is right in my life (can definitely not do this otherwise), but the head's...just...not...there.

Suggestions?

when i get that way, i walk away and do other stuff for a while - read books, watch films, do stuff indoors, even hang out on the GB for a while. i have found, over time, there is no point whatsoever in trying to force my head into 'poetry mode'. it's either there, or not, but it does always return. i certainly never worry about it going awol never to return! take a little time for yourself to get revitalised then come back all guns blazing and i hope the rest of your february improves dramatically

 

[Black13]

Agreed. The harder you search for inspiration, the harder it is to find. Chances are that if you're having to dig that deep, the well's pretty dry. Wait for some rain, and bask in my awesome metaphors.

 

[fridayam]

In my experience, poems are like London buses--you wait ages for one, then two or three arrive at the same time Meanwhile, like Chip says, enjoy the life that might unexpectedly spark something off.

 

[Koba]

Get drunk and forget about it.

 

[twelveoone]

Get drunk and forget about it.

I was wondering why I was off of late...
Liar, I don't know if this will help you, but getting stuck in traffic always did wonders for me. Problem is your have to remember all this stuff, till you get someplace to write it down.
Do, you know how much stuff I lost...well if anyone finds it you can have it, if I forgot it, I probably wasn't worth writing.

 

[ishtat]

My February blows chunks so far and I don't know why.

Ask me about poetry and theory and I'll write you a bleepin' essay. Ask me about a poem, and all you get is a blank stare.

Can't write them, can't read them, can't think them. So can't contribute in any way other than meta musings and random cheers.

I have the time, I have the will, all is right in my life (can definitely not do this otherwise), but the head's...just...not...there.

Suggestions?

My experience exactly, I have been through a long dry spell since I stopped going to work a couple of years back. Then I had to take a fairly long road trip and afterwards wrote down something that I had sorted out whilst behind the wheel. It then dawned on me that in the past it was almost invariably during the hour long car trips to and from work that I wrote any poetry (at least in my head). I just copied it up on the computer later.

Being alone in that tin cell was my best writing environment.

Working from home has its downsides.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

I got intimidated by all the good stuff everyone has been pouring out every day, although I don't see that applying to you, but I've been scribbling down bits and bobs as they occur to me and just hoping something good comes out of it. I need peace and quiet without interuption and it's not easy when ones husband retires lol

 

[Liar]

You got all your life to write. Go fishing.

That's what summers are for. I'd need a major drill if I tried that now.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

That's what summers are for. I'd need a major drill if I tried that now.

go Inuit?

 

[Liar]

go Inuit?

They have open seas all year round to kayak around in. Here there's 4 feet of solid ice between me and any fishies.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

They have open seas all year round to kayak around in. Here there's 4 feet of solid ice between me and any fishies.

wow I'm glad I'm this side of the pond ..... I don't do cold

 

[vrosej10]

My February blows chunks so far and I don't know why.

Ask me about poetry and theory and I'll write you a bleepin' essay. Ask me about a poem, and all you get is a blank stare.

Can't write them, can't read them, can't think them. So can't contribute in any way other than meta musings and random cheers.

I have the time, I have the will, all is right in my life (can definitely not do this otherwise), but the head's...just...not...there.

Suggestions?

If find trying exercises helps unblock me. Here's a good one; write a poem describing yourself without revealing you size, your gender, your appearence.

 

[vrosej10]

In my experience, poems are like London buses--you wait ages for one, then two or three arrive at the same time Meanwhile, like Chip says, enjoy the life that might unexpectedly spark something off.

I tend to get ten or fifteen! My methods I would say would have to be different than everyone else's here. I am bipolar and when I am manic I will write day and night. I am a fast cycler so I'll be up two days, down one or two. Writing is almost pathological for me. I love it but it is destablising and the ability to write well vanishes if I have to take extra meds to either calm me or improve my mood. I have to stop if I am having more problems than usual cause the act of creating spins me out of control.

I am aware the bipolar poet is kind of a cliche.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

I tend to get ten or fifteen! My methods I would say would have to be different than everyone else's here. I am bipolar and when I am manic I will write day and night. I am a fast cycler so I'll be up two days, down one or two. Writing is almost pathological for me. I love it but it is destablising and the ability to write well vanishes if I have to take extra meds to either calm me or improve my mood. I have to stop if I am having more problems than usual cause the act of creating spins me out of control.

I am aware the bipolar poet is kind of a cliche.

you're not the only one on this board you know, not me but there are others

 

[vrosej10]

you're not the only one on this board you know, not me but there are others

Thanks for that. In my family you don't get the creative without the crazy.

 

[EroticOrogeny]

I, too have found that morning drive in to be a place to write.
Lately I haven't been writing much either. I wonder if quitting smoking has anything to do with my poetic hiatus.

 

[vrosej10]

I, too have found that morning drive in to be a place to write.
Lately I haven't been writing much either. I wonder if quitting smoking has anything to do with my poetic hiatus.

I would probably say yes. Take it from someone with whacked out brain chemistry, nicotine is a stimulant. Stimulants mimic the effects of hypomania. Smoke and you're joining me on the dark side.

 

[Black13]

That's what summers are for. I'd need a major drill if I tried that now.

Oh yeah... I forgot, I live in Arizona.

 

[butters]

My experience exactly, I have been through a long dry spell since I stopped going to work a couple of years back. Then I had to take a fairly long road trip and afterwards wrote down something that I had sorted out whilst behind the wheel. It then dawned on me that in the past it was almost invariably during the hour long car trips to and from work that I wrote any poetry (at least in my head). I just copied it up on the computer later.

Being alone in that tin cell was my best writing environment.

Working from home has its downsides.

now isn't that interesting... do you suppose it has anything to do with not having to give part of your mind over to other people? sure, there're other road users to contend with and stuff, but not having to actively communicate with anyone else, listen to them...

i've head-written a few when walking places, like to work, or to the shops, when i don't have to speak to friends, family, neighbours (unless i bump into them on the way, which happens often enough )... it frees that part of our minds, i suppose. plus, where i don't have to be thinking about them, i am able to actively contemplate nature on my journey - how the light's hitting a tree trunk, for example, or how the sky is that particular shade of blue i love or is that pink-grey of a pigeon's chest... that sort of stuff. allows me to be more observational, which so often sparks something.

OH! i just realised something else! i'll put up a new thread in case it gets missed here, but it pertains to this thread closely.

 

[twelveoone]

My February blows chunks so far and I don't know why.

Ask me about poetry and theory and I'll write you a bleepin' essay. Ask me about a poem, and all you get is a blank stare.

Can't write them, can't read them, can't think them. So can't contribute in any way other than meta musings and random cheers.

I have the time, I have the will, all is right in my life (can definitely not do this otherwise), but the head's...just...not...there.

Suggestions?

Did you ever think, that after you write something good, well you need a break.
I thought the last two you wrote were excellent.
I would use the analogy of giving birth, but since I can't, I won't.

 

[Senna Jawa]

You got all your life to write. Go fishing.

Excellent advice!

 

[champagne1982]

They have open seas all year round to kayak around in. Here there's 4 feet of solid ice between me and any fishies.

Liar, I love you but the polar ice caps are not open seas and rare is the Inuit who voluntarily goes out in the dark to fish. If it isn't caught by the last sunset, odds are, the fishies are safe until sun up.

ETA: Sorry if this was nowhere near where the thread (I was about to name it Fred) was headed. I hope you're writing again, you brilliant Scandanavian.