I started writing poetry when I was in high school. It was something I liked to do. I used to think that poems all had to rhyme. As I started reading them and, I learned that they didn’t have to. One could write how it made them feel. It comes from the heart and soul of a person. Expression in poetry, pausing, cause and effect. How do I get the reader to stop just where I want them to when they are reading my words is the key, I think.
Just like in music. when I listen to it, I think, if the artist can make me feel what he/she is feeling, then I think it makes a great song. Not all artist have the ability to make me feel that way.Take Michael Jackson. From the time he started singing, he had the ability to make a person feel what he was feeling, every emotion he was feeling while he was singing. That made him unique. He could make me cry on cue. I wonder if that is why so many others did not continue in the music industry. They got stuck or they just could not get past themselves. I get stuck in myself and can’t seem to write anymore. I get lost and my creativeness, for lack of a better word seems to keep me from writing. All the craziness in my head is just “stuck” and I start wondering off in my head. I stop feeling. Then I take it to a whole new level. It causes me to write crap, and I no longer “feel” what I am writing, so then the reader is not going to “feel” it either. When I free myself, I can allow myself to be creative. My fear kept me in its grasp and wouldn’t let me be that creative soul that I knew I could be.
Freedom From Myself
Stagnated by fear, I had become frozen inside. My mind had become clouded; jagged, un-ending sentences and emotions run through my head. Locked in a prison that is my mind, I am debilitated by the incessant cadence of words and images; lost with no escape from the continuous vibrations of repetition. The world in my mind had become a place of comfort with its own complacency. Unable to journey beyond this created and imagined paradoxical view of life, fear kept me prisoner, and reveled in my inability to stop it. At the point I wanted to give up, when I felt the last bit of clarity slipping beyond my grasp, the Universe reached in and fed my soul the smallest bit of hope; and from that miniscule morsel, the light shined in and bound the fear that loathed the daylight, releasing me from bondage and desolation; Freeing me from the madness and myself.