Process
Pondering the craft of poetry
Mar 25, 2021
Some poems come quick, just flow straight from heart to paper before I’ve any idea it’s happening. Others take a bit of labour and get dissected, deformed, looted and binned — sneaky theft of pleasant linguistics to portray a beautiful heart that deserved more time to shine. It feels deeply like cheating. I know a fair few words through wasting too much time reading; couple this with the tragedy stained on my soul I needn’t even try. It’s too easy and there’s no work involved. No discipline to whittle away years crafting plotlines, characters or thoughts. I just sit and pour, pour, pour truth and bullshit. I can rarely tell the two apart or fathom what any of it is worth.
