"Inspiration comes in many ways" - Aline at Serra da Cantareira -Brazil -2007

What is a poet? An unhappy man who in his heart harbors a deep anguish, but whose lips are so fashioned that the moans and cries which pass over them are transformed into ravishing music. His fate is like that of the unfortunate victims whom the tyrant Phalaris imprisoned in a brazen bull, and slowly tortured over a steady fire; their cries could not reach the tyrants ears so as to strike terror into his heart; when they reached his ears they sounded like sweet music. And men crowd about the poet and say to him, “Sing for us soon again”—which is as much as to say, “May new sufferings torment your soul, but may your lips be fashioned as before; for the cries would only distress us, but the music, the music, is delightful.” ~Søren Kierkegaard

Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion; it is not the expression of personality, but an escape from personality. But, of course, only those who have personality and emotions know what it means to want to escape from these things. ~ T. S. Eliot

Being a poet is hard… Why?  Who hasn’t been on the uncomfortable side of the conversation that goes something like

this: “So, what do you do?” “I’m a poet.” -long silence- “No, I mean what do

Dana, my librarian cat!

you do? What is your job?” As if poetry is not a job, but merely a taboo hobby. (and I think this conversation follows the same way in many other art branches)

There is also the fact that most of the time it simply doesn’t pay. Many poets must work one or more manual labor or teaching jobs (like me) to actually pay the bills. But it’s only the practical life problem.

Another reason being a poet can be difficult is the nature of composing the poems themselves. I have been writing poetry all my life it has only become more and more challenging to write, not easier. And there is no shortage of distraction, whether internal or external. There are those who argue that such distraction is necessary; others that it is detrimental. There is no doubt that it is unavoidable.

But for those of us who write poetry, the art chose us. We have no choice but pursue it (the choice consists merely of whether we will publish in our lifetime or not). And it is rewarding in its own right. No, it offers absolutely no instant gratification. Therefore, soldiers of the words, ever and onward with your mighty pen!

But still…

TODAY I AM POET

Today I am a poet again
Singing to the four winds
My rhyming verses,
Of nostalgia and heat …

Today from this hill
I see the plains,
filled with my words
growing with the rain
of my elegance…

Today I am childhood,
that wants the future
And is not afraid to age,
I offer innocence…

Today I am dementia,
of the craziest passion,
I am alive, I am yours …

Today I am paint,
Which runs through my veins,
In tangled webs
as life in an hourglass …

Today I am a poet, today I am…