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Passions in Poetry

Why. . .

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Sven
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0 posted 03-28-2001 07:49 PM       View Profile for Sven   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Sven

. . .did you begin to write???  And why do you write what you write?  In other words. . . why do you write poetry. . . or, why do you write prose??  

For me, I just sat down with an open notebook one day and started. . . that was it. . . and I liked what I saw. . . and haven't stopped since. . .

Why do I write poetry??  Because I feel that with poetry, you can do so much. . . poetry can be anything. . . it's an open canvas just saying, "Paint me. . ."

---------------------------------------------------------------




To the world, you may only be one person. But to one person, you may be the world.

[This message has been edited by Sven (edited 03-29-2001).]

Acies
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1 posted 03-28-2001 08:01 PM       View Profile for Acies   Email Acies   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Acies

I just decided one day to type on this one typewriter

I write what I feel, if I lose the feeling, I stop what I write

"So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this give life to thee." W.S.

Poet deVine
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2 posted 03-28-2001 08:19 PM       View Profile for Poet deVine   Email Poet deVine   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Poet deVine

When I was 10, we had to write an autobiography about ourselves...not a lot happened by then...but I got an 'A' and my teacher praised my work (remember that, praise will get you anywhere!). So I started writing stories...and I wrote a play in sixth grade. I only wrote one poem in high school but did write our class song for our 'senior fling'....the rest is history..


I NEED to write.
Allan Riverwood
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3 posted 03-29-2001 02:57 AM       View Profile for Allan Riverwood   Email Allan Riverwood   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Allan Riverwood

I can't remember the details... I began at age seven, after reading something by Poe called "The Raven."  I started writing just to see if I was any good at it... I wasn't, really.  
I kept my poetry to myself, just something I did in my spare time.  Nobody I knew was interested in it.
Sixth grade we were to write and read for the class.  It was the only thing I ever really became famous for... I was the kid everyone looked forward to hearing recite his poems.  They were all light-hearted and humourous ones for the class, my serious ones I didn't dare share.  
I kept writing from then on, improving my own skill, trying new formats.  I write several ways... as an art, you could say.  Both for the sake of expressing myself, and for the sake of entertaining my audience.  
That's why I kept writing.  I started writing for reasons I can't remember exactly... I've been writing most of my life.
Sven, maybe this should be an idea for a challenge in Poetry Challenge?  Writing about why we write?
~Allan

Its rather handy being at the top of the food chain...you can sort things out and not get the blame for it.  ~~Elizabeth Johnson (anonymousfemale)

Christopher
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Purgatorial Incarceration


4 posted 03-29-2001 09:26 AM       View Profile for Christopher   Email Christopher   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Christopher

I saw this yesterday... and tried really hard to remember when writing wasn't a part of my life... and couldn't. Although it's been intermittent, with the exception of the past couple of years, I've been writing literally since I can remember.

Not long ago, my mom and I were going through some older stuff at her house. During the reminiscing attendant with browsing through old photographs, school reports and other memorabilia, we came upon several interesting things. One, was the first 'poem' I'd written. It was HORRIBLE! ...Of course I wrote it when I was five. It was about sixteen lines long and made zero sense to me when I read it - but still provided a few laughs and more than an hour or two of consideration since.

Another interesting (and somewhat ironic – see my ’homepage’ link above…) unearthing was the 'newspaper' I was editing/publishing family-wide when I was seven. Replete with graphics, commentaries, and even a cartoon strip ('Football Head' - don't ask...) I had two or three issues of a multiple page production. I had 'hired' my brother as a contributing editor and we'd hand-written/drawn everything. In it we covered things of world interest... you know, things such as what my mom bought at the grocery store that week, and that my baby sister had cried all night the night before. There was a fictional by-play in there as well, though (thankfully!) it was short. Also of ironic note - there was a small part of the issues dedicated to quoted scripture as well as philosophical (from a seven-year-old's point of view) ruminations on God. This discovery too provided no small amount of laughter and contemplation!

Throughout the years, I've written more words than I can possibly imagine or care to count. These words have taken the forms of poetry & prose - fiction, non-fiction, essays, and articles. They've been long letters to a sweetheart, or simple ramblings of what my mind was mulling over at the time. They've been plans of the future, and even occasionally have been somewhat biographical. They've been to inspire & empower, reason & justify. Rarely have they’ve been to hurt, but I have to admit to those as well. I look back and smack myself for all the words I’ve blithely given away – stories small and large, some barely begun. Poems have left my hands, with nary a copy behind – into the hands of a girlfriend or friend who simply enjoyed and wanted to hold a part of me, or perhaps the concept of the words. And of course (like I did with much of my artwork), I gave them to the person with a smile of gratitude because they enjoyed what I’d written.

You know what I really wish? Not that I’d have asked payment – those things I gave away would lose their value were monetary value attached – but rather that I’d have kept or given a copy. Friends move, relationships dissolve, but the words remain. They are immutable once written. But the painful part is that I have no way to bring them back. They exist – out there, somewhere. They are still in someone’s shoebox, or the paper they were written on has been destroyed, lost, burned (some of the relationships didn’t end prettily!), or simply forgotten – but they still exist. They exist, but I can never regain them. They are gone from me, possibly forever.

In the recent years, this has been resolved – at least for any current or future material. No longer written by hand, I maintain a copy of everything I write – whether it be good or bad, it remains with me. I still shake my head in sorrow sometimes to think of all the things I’ve lost in this vein due to the lack of a computer!!!

Another tangent here to reprint my appreciation for Passions – it has given me an outlet through which I can share my words, and keep them at the same time! Now I don’t have to push my words only on those nearby, but I can subject unsuspecting net-crawlers as well!!! There are many facets of this place which one could venerate – the community, the entertainment, the caring. But not least of all is the opportunity to share.

Anyway, I think if nothing else, losing all the words I had before has given me a much larger appreciation for the ones I write now. And believe me, there are plenty of those. I have a tendency, when here, to be one of the more verbose posters (with the possible exception of Ron, and perhaps Kit’s coming in not too far behind!). But even so, I write MUCH more than is seen here. I did a running tally over a few days once. I figured that between emails, poetry (rare these days, I admit), short stories, and the work in my novels, that I average around 10,000 words a day. Granted, a good portion of those words (say 2,000-2,500 of them) are subsequently deleted or copied into my ‘misc’ document, which holds all the ideas that I have, or ideas that I develop for something where they just don’t fit. But still, that’s a lot of words. In reality, it doesn’t take that much time, but is an integral part of my life. I don’t get paid for writing – not yet anyway – but I still have to do it.

Your last question was ‘why’ do we write. If the above hasn’t explained it, then perhaps this statement will help:

I write for the exact same reason I breathe.

Thank you Sven, for an interesting topic, and the chance to ramble on – had to get the rest of my 10,000 today somehow!  

Christopher
Funny thing about mirrors. Like individual thoughts, they can’t be avoided forever.
-Alan Dean Foster

Yu Lan
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New Zealand


5 posted 03-30-2001 07:08 AM       View Profile for Yu Lan   Email Yu Lan   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Yu Lan

Mm.. well I've pretty much always written too, but the earliest poetry I still have is from when I was 11 years old. I started writing because I thought things were beautiful, and I wanted to remember them in some way that meant something to me.. I loved reading.. and words always painted a picture for me.. so I would write them.. I didn't write poetry so much then.. usually just descriptions of what I saw.. maybe a page or so.. then I started to need poetry, because I used to be terrified of talking to anyone, letting them know me.. I didn't want them to find the real, inner me.. well, i didn't want to show them that me.. I would have quite liked for someone to actually see it, themselves.. but of course, if u push someone away, they are going to leave..   but I had to let some of my feelings out in some way, rather than talking to anyone.. so I wrote how I felt, and most of them were really.. dark? or sad poems.. I have real difficulty writing cheerful poetry even now.. they dont seem to quite have as much feeling, even if they do turn out ok.. But now, I know I would go insane without writing.. I have to write. It's just part of me now.. And I'm glad.. I don't ever want to lose that.

-Lynne

LoveBug
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6 posted 03-31-2001 04:37 PM       View Profile for LoveBug   Email LoveBug   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for LoveBug

Interesting question.

When I was 7, I wrote my first poem. I don't even remember why, I just did. In first or second grade, I can't quite remember, I had one published in a book of young poets. It isn't very good, but it kinda makes since:

"Mommy and Me"

There one was a girl named Erica Lee
And she was happy as she could be
Because her mommy took her to see
A monkey high in a palm tree
"Oh, I wish that was me!"
Said Erica as she looked up that tree
Mommy said that could never be
Because Erica was a girl and not a monkey

(From "Anthology of Poetry by Young Americans", 1992)

After that, I started writing little things all the time. Whenever I was mad or sad, I'd either write or read. I wrote more stories than poetry, since it was easy for me to write about the way that I wanted things to be. For some reason, when I was about 8 or 9, my parents told me to stop. It was time to concentrate on school, they said, so I could be a doctor and take care of people when they were sick. What could I do? I did ok, although I started into tantrums whenever I was mad, instead of retreating to my room. Then adolecence came, and things didn't go so well. I was also teased a lot at school, and I got really depressed. I got a crush on this guy (it's never really gone away) who just wanted friendship, and I started to search online for poems. I came to the main site and started to read, among other places. I also got into the classical poetry, and all of those things finally inspired me to start writing again. It was about November of 99, and I started posting here in January of 2000. I was just writing poetry then, and then I drifted into Prose one day, and now I do both. I don't know which one I prefer, because I see aspects of each in anything I write. All of my poems tell a story, and there is always that bit poetry in each prose piece I write.

I can't imagine my life without writing, and I don't really want to. I also don't want to imagine life without the works of you wonderful people!!!!  

"Men judge generally more by the eye than by the hand, for everyone can see and few can feel."-Machiavelli

Dopey Dope
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7 posted 03-31-2001 07:27 PM       View Profile for Dopey Dope   Email Dopey Dope   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Dopey Dope

I write because it's who I am.
It's not something I do....It's something that's me.....It's my life and my life is writing.

Temptress
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8 posted 04-03-2001 07:49 PM       View Profile for Temptress   Email Temptress   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Temptress

HEELLOOO!   Because its my PASSION..is there anything more than that? Sure there is, but I can't begin to put it all into words right now. I feel more of a drive to write within the past couple of years. I want to do it when I'm happy, sad, melancholic, etc...etc...

still d-i-s-c-o-n-n-e-c-t-e-d
I am bound by this, you see...to become Night's sole mistress, and I am jealous in my endeavours for his attention.

Fading Away
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9 posted 04-09-2001 09:24 PM       View Profile for Fading Away   Email Fading Away   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Fading Away

My first poem was two years ago.  My older sister who I adored and looked up to more than anyone was in the hospital, very near death due to destructive habits.  I was beside myself with anger at her selfishness and her (seemingly) lack of will to get better.  It frustrated me, so I took out a pen and started writing.  It's the best thing I could have done.. it's gotten me a long way.

So I write when I don't understand things, or when I'm so angery at something or someone.. most of my poetry is very emotional poetry.  It helps me feel better, and it's a much healthier way to get out emotions than the way I was used to.

Well, that's that  

--Marie

"Hope is a thing with feathers that perches in the soul."  --Emily Dickinson

Dee
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since 08-19-2000
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Queensland, Australia


10 posted 04-10-2001 09:47 AM       View Profile for Dee   Email Dee   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Dee

I started writing when I was a teenager. You know the usual ramblings of a young girl who thinks she is in love...or just lost the love of her life! I stopped whan a boyfriend made fun of me, said what I wrote was rubbish (to put it politely).
It was a while before I started again, writing for friends and special occasions. Then it all came back in a flood and I haven't stopped since...except when my muse is not co-operative.  
Thanks for the great question Sven.
Dee

I wish you every happiness and may you always have the best of the good things in life. a brand

Sunshine
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Listening to every heart


11 posted 04-10-2001 01:22 PM       View Profile for Sunshine   Email Sunshine   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Sunshine's Home Page   View IP for Sunshine

It is simple.  I've seen books, magazines, manuscripts, anything reduced to paper, held by human hands.

When's the last time you held your computer like that?

Wouldn't it be wonderful to think that someday, YOU might be held by hands that held you like that? As a gift?  Something treasured? Bound in gilt, and leather, releasing dreams when opened?

And now that you've inspired me....
Temptress
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12 posted 04-10-2001 06:33 PM       View Profile for Temptress   Email Temptress   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Temptress

Hmm..I just noticed that I may not have actually answered this question correctly..or in the way it was asked. Geesh..I'm having communication problems everywhere!  

still d-i-s-c-o-n-n-e-c-t-e-d
I am bound by this, you see...to become Night's sole mistress, and I am jealous in my endeavours for his attention.

Acies
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13 posted 04-10-2001 07:00 PM       View Profile for Acies   Email Acies   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Acies

Dopey is full of feces  

"So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this give life to thee." W.S.

Dopey Dope
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14 posted 04-11-2001 05:19 PM       View Profile for Dopey Dope   Email Dopey Dope   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Dopey Dope

Hahahahahaha oh that was mean acire! hahaha
somebody seize him!

Acies
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15 posted 04-11-2001 08:16 PM       View Profile for Acies   Email Acies   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Acies

"So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this give life to thee." W.S.

JLR
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since 02-04-2001
Posts 1851


16 posted 04-11-2001 10:10 PM       View Profile for JLR   Email JLR   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for JLR

I was 14 or 15 when I started writing down my thoughts...I thought they were important.  To this day my mother has them locked in a safety deposit box...in case she ever needs to hold them against me.  After she stole them, I stopped writing for a long time.  I started again when I was on my own.  I stopped when I lost inspiration...for many years.  I started, again when I fell in love with someone who wrote me poems.  And if nothing else, I am grateful that she reminded me how I loved to write.
Yu Lan
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since 04-13-2000
Posts 1486
New Zealand


17 posted 04-15-2001 09:55 PM       View Profile for Yu Lan   Email Yu Lan   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Yu Lan

Acire, feces is spelt "faeces"..  

"He who knows others is wise; he who knows himself is enlightened." Lao-tsu

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