Poet

oh lovely lady I feel this write deep in my bones but there is a place for you here is home.. here you will be embraced though agreed it may not pay the bills.. excellent ink.. with love Crim

Thank you so much , Unveiling(crimsin), luv :-* ~

I had this epiphany of a sudden today and it was an immensely painful thing. But, it was also incredibly freeing. I've spent far too much time pursuing others' ideas of what I should do or be, rather frenetically trying to become something/someone salable/marketable/not myself.

Apparently, I will be exploring poverty in a whole new, extraordinarily creative, immersive sort of way. :-p

'suffer for art' is the artist's mantra...

Well, JohnFeddeler, luv, that is agonizingly true enough. I've wept enough shards of sorrow today for it to be so.

With no money for pen and paper, we would write with blood or dirt but we would write.  There is nothing to stop the words that must flow ...

Granite, you are right, save for this one thing: we can stop ourselves. This, I know to be true. I silenced my voice for years. I think I always knew I could not be what I was meant to be.

Ah well, c'est la vie... what's passed is passed, no going back, only forward, eh? :-* Blood and dirt it is...

Groovy write.  Welcome home.  Have fun.

Thank you, blackhyde, luv. :-* And, thank you for the welcome as well.

sweet oracle of all that's poetic, Anaïs Nin said " If you do not breathe through writing, if you do not cry out in writing, or sing in writing, then don’t write, because our culture has no use for it."
you breathe it, you cry out in it and you sing it...

personally i'd gladly starve for catharsis :)
enjoyed this piece muchly xo

Ah winter (_shadoe_), Snowcrystal ~

Thank you for Anais, luv! Thank you for coming with blankets and tea, ahaste. I'm in need. If it were but me, I'd starve gladly indeed. Alas! It's not.

Damn it! This state of affairs has to change. Poets are essential. Without them, communication would die. Recognition of this is crucial.

Thank you, mille fois, Merci beaucoup, Snowcrystal! :-*

Your words place you just fine my dear in my world....thanks for the lovely read.....

Thank you very much, PhilipWardlow, luv ~

I consider that an honor and pleasure. :-*

Whew! Jack Tex, when you write a diatribe, you really don't hold back, do you, luv? :-*

First, thank you for the stylistic plaudits, however in many ways, to be utterly frank here (and since you were, so shall I be as well), they are wholly unmerited. Do you know what I did? I sat and wrote on my trusty BlackBerry exactly as it came out of my head, all of a piece, tears pouring the while. Perhaps, this is self-pity. If I remain in it, it will be. I will have to move forward somehow.

But, at the moment I wrote it? Oh no, far purer an expression of sheer, unbearable anguish. Years ago, I stopped writing poetry. People kept telling me to find my metier, get my degree, establish a career. I couldn't do it. I worked, yes. Some jobs were pretty good, some only okay, others well, the less said the better. All throughout this I continued going to school. Things were challenging as a single mother. Here's the thing, though, I could never pinpoint a career, a degree that fit.

10 days, Jack - 10, and I know beyond a doubt. After years of mouldering away, I know EXACTLY who and what I am. I'm a fucking PHOENIX rising from the ashes!!!

Yet...

Yet...

Yet... what do I do with this grand epiphany? It IS wondrous and marvelous and I'm grateful to have it, but (and it's a big one and I'm dead serious here) this is do or die here. I must do this now. It is coming out of my pores. I am speaking in rhyme. I am writing it, texting it, thinking in rhyme. It's for real, it's the shit. It's some bad-ass business. I'm in trouble here, for real, just like when Dorothy sees the Wiz (except, I guess she didn't really see him after all - whatever - you take my meaning?)

I can't sleep. I can't eat. Yeah, it's something, all right.

I take your point, Jack. Hell, luv, I take all of 'em, but I didn't see this coming.

YOU are truly a POET, n it's clear you know it!
Power-FULL spill my dear!

Poetikmind, luv :-* ~

Thank you so, erotic ninja!

In the words of the old poets; poetry is the soul. Wonderful verse. :)  

Thank you very, very much, Pishashee, luv :-*.

The old poets were right: poetry is the soul. Thank you for remembering.

Ma chère tu a une lieu dans mon âme...each word there planted and blossoming in the light of your passion. The body of the poet may be hungry but the heart and soul of the poet are filled to overflowing with love, pain, experience, passion, sensuality...the basic elements of our spiritual existence.

Thank you for feeding me so well :)

Ahhh, Gahddess_Worship, luv :-* ~
Mon chère, tu as une place entre mon esprit aussi...

I am so thankful that I have been able to help feed your soul, luv, for that sustenance is most essential. :-*

You are most welcome! :-D

I finally got the chance to listen to your beautiful vocal rendering of this piece. My favorite passages as read aloud are:
"My brain seethes with it as though I've unlocked floodgates
It's in the air I breathe "

vocal style is poetic perfection

Thank you, blackhyde, luv :-*!

For a while, I did not think I could voice this...

Though difficult, I was heartened to find I was wrong... :-*

Great poem Savaja :] Beautiful flow. Can relate 100%. Pure content.

Thank you, SugarSkull, luv :-* ~

It does not surprise me that you relate, luv. :-* All us poets here struggling and striving and, hopefully, not starving... :-p