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Poetry, is it something we all jot down at one point and time in our lives.
Do we all think we're poets? Are We?
Sure I've written my words in journals, scribbled them on napkins, reciepts, and other miscellaneous ink or lead receiving objects I could find when thoughts I deemed worthy to be saved I then transcibed.
I had a collection. I think they are still lingering in my memoirs and in my mind. Although hidden deep they'd be hard to find.
Artists, poets included, always have a dark side and my black hole has been filled. I do not have deep wounds to linger upon, though for which I do not find myself wanting.
Not to say my dark side does not exhist, we all have one, my black hole gapes open just enough to suck my spirit dry on a rare occasion, only enough for a brief depression, but not long enough to spend time writing about the pain...maybe I should.
I eventually look up...then look around at all the hurting people I am surrounded by and realize that my life is so good and I again forget about the black hole, as it is absorbed by a supernatural filler. I find a peace that does not require pouring my soul upon the blank page, leaving the unsoiled napkin, saving the trees, on my knees...the supernatural is good!

posted by MrH @ 12:38 AM