Oh my goodness, there is another one.
Existence is Identity, Consciousness is Identification. Fountain pen penmanship by The Immovable Movers.
Writing on Water.
Sometimes I am sinfully envious of the visually artistic.
Should I post my poetry or other writing on here?
This question comes to me every once in a while, often when I finish a poem. I’m not incredibly artistic. I was not gifted with the hands to draw, sketch, or paint. I have not the feet to dance well, nor the ears or voice to create great music. Yet, I can turn a phrase when need be. I can sing with syllables and paint with words. This is a form that is less visual, less open. It cannot simply be seen or heard, but requires mastication and contemplation. This is not to say that other forms of art do not require these things as well, but poetry is a more coy and illusive experience. I believe it was Eugene H. Peterson who said that “poetry is root language,” meaning that it is a radical, fundamental expression of the human condition. That is often how I view and write poetry. It often expresses my deepest thoughts and emotions, hopes and fears. It reflects my self. It is me.
Putting my poetry on here would be like telling a woman that I have affections for her. It is a jump; a risk and a gamble. It would be like exposing myself in a vastly intimate way. That is why I have not done it. Except for trifle thoughts to which I put a simple rhyme while in the stressful throes of academia (aka the stupid things I think of during school to procrastinate), I have refrained from putting any poetry on here that has been crafted by my own hand. For I fear the rawness and vulnerability of such an act.
All of this rhetoric reveals a deeper question. With whom should I share myself? For, as is the case with poetry, it reveals who I am, my struggles, passions, and fears. In this it does no different. In this it tells no lie.
