“A poet is an unhappy being whose heart is torn by secret sufferings, but whose lips are so strangely formed that when the sighs and the cries escape them, they sound like beautiful music… and then people crowd about the poet and say to him: “Sing for us soon again;” that is as much as to say, “May new sufferings torment your soul.” ~Søren Kierkegaard
Something about this quote I like. In this quote, I compare the poet to a caged song bird, who sings a sad, tortured melody, and everyone loves it because it is a melody they haven’t heard before. It is so beautiful it is eerie. They want the bird to keep singing no matter how sad and tormented he is knowing he may never be free. He sings for a crowd that may never understand him or his heart’s desires. Even if the bird was free, what would he do with his freedom? Hence, new sufferings.
My poem yesterday stunk. I wasn’t satisfied with it. I need to get back to writing and making it a habit. I thought the prompt would be helpful, but it was frustrating!
It was frustrating because I’m out of sync. I am out of sync because I’m not writing.
My life has been a little overwhelming over the last year. Maybe a little more than a little.
It is part of my routine to help organize and facilitate home-school for the kids. They are doing awesome! It’s been a fun adventure. However, we have also struggled with misfortune– some of our family members battled illness while others with more serious health problems. My father-in-law with Bladder Cancer and my sister with Intracranial Hypertension. (Sn: My father-in-law is now cancer-free, but my sister may have to have surgery.)
Mix in some familial and relational problems. It’s a rocky road. My life is never normal on this note. Nor will I ever expect it to be.
Then, the seasonal depression sunk in over winter. The cold and darkness doesn’t agree with me. Winter has a choke-hold on Spring, and he’s winning..
The wind is wicked. Messing with the power like a naughty kid flipping the light switch! Snow lazily falling from the sky.
I am a combination! I am not entirely a match for the writer. I am a perfectionist, but not with writing. With my writing, I am messy. It is hard for me to finish projects. My head isn’t totally messy. I don’t have cobwebs up there. I do have material up there. Yes, I am passionate– about everything— however, I am not a know-it-all. I do know my limits even though I test them… Daily. I learn.
The poet seems a better fit. Not quiet, but not loud. I am observant and detail-oriented– that goes with being a perfectionist. The productivity and struggling with words is right-on!