Art – Matt Chambliss
Music by Epidemic Sound
Words lay still, insipid and bland on the heart
Intellect’s two dimensions churn out clever comparisons
That can pedestrianly pass for poetry
But it’s not
Word games at best
Mental masturbation absent the Lover
Carried out in secret compulsion to
Fill the emptiness, of the page
But there is no love there, no life
Nothing but ego and self gratification
I grow sick of myself without Her
Same tired themes, overused phrases fall flat
Filling empty spaces, with more
Seed, spilled, scattered, words wasted
Poetry is affection
Poetry is passion
Poetry is fervor’s intense desire
Poetry is hunger’s zealous devotion to it’s satisfaction
Consummation of flesh mind and spirit
Ego joyfully surrendered, broken asunder
As I is transcended and dances with We and Us and They
Poetry happens between the ticks of the clock, this and that, You and I
All else is mental masturbation
Poetry is alive
Poetry is Love
I miss Her when She’s gone
Beautiful expression in your love play – it struck me as such a powerful awareness of how we miss that yin/yang balance within ourselves. Thank you and gratitude for liking my latest poem “My Gift”.
I enjoyed your work and am always interested in getting to know new talented folks like yourself. 🙂
Dear Friend. Although I am leaving Pearls, my blog behind soon. I wish to still follow your blog. Thank you for being part of my faithful Core<3
I will miss reading your work. Please drop in from time to time and it will be like the sun coming up 🙂 Please let me know if you resume your work. Thank you so much for your being with me through a difficult time. Your attention has helped me began to discover more of who I am and risk finding out more. With Love – Plato.
Thank you so much<3 I am so grateful that I have helped you discover more of whom you are and risk finding out more<3<3<3 I hope I will continue to light up your life from time to time my friend. I am creating a new website, so my work will continue. However, I am struggling with my decision now as a tremendous amount of love and wishes for me to stay here at WP keeps pouring in! If you feel like giving me advice, please do. I feel like such a crappy follower you see. Cannot seem to find peace with a growing blog:-( Although I am grateful.
What it makes me think of is that sometimes we can have so much, even good stuff, going on that we can’t see what is best. I would say that your soul knows what is most important right now in your life. Those whose opinion you want will support you in whatever decisions you need to make. People may not prefer your choices but they not theirs to live with. Your primary loyalty is to god’s intention for you. I personally want you to grow and move into the place you are being called, wherever that may be. So often the creator calls us out of one place so that we may grow in the new. It may be that new wineskins are now called for.
These words of advice are very precious to me. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I know now what to do. I hope that you are doing great my friend<3 Hugs, Isabella
Happy 4th <3
Wow, you’re writing is so inspiring literally every time I read your work I leave with something. Thank you .
Thank you. I am happy every time you come by.
I get the feeling that you’re making fun of my weak attempts to put rhymes on the page, like in “Damn Crickets.” 🙂 Of course, you’re not talking about me, you’re talking about you. Still, mine is mental masturbation indeed, but it’s also therapy. Just sayin’ that poetry doesn’t always have to be about passion and love.
Grief is also passion as is joy and anger and boredom or any other real emotion which I would think is a different facet of love. As with all of my stuff I am generally talking to myself. I was just noticing the difference in me when I have written being clever and when I have written expressing something real. They seem to be different to me. Well I know they are for me. One feels vulnerable and the other not as much. Both are valid just different. I so enjoy you stopping by here. Thank you very much. 🙂
I am a therapist. I think of what I do with others as poetry when it is done right. Something real happening between two souls that creates a new thing
The creation of something new is not accomplished by the intellect but by the play instinct acting from inner necessity. The creative mind plays with the objects it loves. (Or hates?) (Carl Jung)
Look at you. 🙂 I am smiling. Play is poetry too.
I may be slow, but I’ll get it eventually…
Most excellent quote!
Good tutor… <3
The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed. (Carl Jung, too)
That is therapy and poetry and love. What are you reading?
I actually wrote down three Jung quotes years ago from a book by Joan Anderson (A Walk On The Beach: Tales Of Wisdom From An Unconventional Woman) who was friends with a woman named Joan Erikson. Erickson and her husband Erik worked with Jung, if I remember correctly. At least I think that’s the one it came out of. I read Anderson’s books a long time ago when I first realized I was stuck.
You sound surprised.
Just happy. It is good stuff. IT means something to me. It is a sweet surprise but you are full of them
I’m glad it was a good surprise. You worried me for a minute. Thought you’d finally figured out I wasn’t playing with a full deck!
🙂
Thank you for that. Poetry is love, Poetry is passion found in real life, and in the mind, without poetry and words of love we consume in our minds is there life? Love in all its senses given with such innocence and rejected makes you turn to words of love you conjure in your mind. Your words made me cry but that’s good because you realize that you are alive, you can feel the pain of love.
Thank you so for that thoughtful and sensitive insightful comment. I am so glad you came by here.
Words games at best. That’s what I feel to be, while I try to put words on it… Thank you for this beautiful one.
sometimes it is just that way. then she returns
Your poem reached me in many levels… I know what you mean… Intellectual games, poetic games…
These verses truly resonated with me:
Mental masturbation absent the Lover
Carried out in secret compulsion to
Fill the emptiness, of the page
But there is no love there, no life
Nothing but ego and self gratification
I grow sick of myself without Her
Just great … Thanks for sharing and all my best wishes. Aquileana 😀
Thank you. Scholar. I do so admire your grasp and insight into your subjects and the way you can distill them down into cogent and relevant posts. I learn from you each time I am with you.
Are you missing the writing, love? Missing the not being filled with enough passion to get the words on the page, that the words are not magic the way we always say they are?
they just are what they are today. it is real and what is. not bad just what is
You have such sweet words, my friend!
It is sweet to me that you cime by here. 🙂
I feel that, too. Beautifully expressed.
You are kind. 🙂 I fixed it a little.