A friend of mine asked me a question and Iâ€™ll be honest, I felt I have no right to answer it. Even though I admitted that to my friend, she still wanted me to try. Her question, â€œWhat does it mean to be a poet?â€ At first, I told her to go ask a poet, but she claims that I am a poet. â€œItâ€™s what you do.â€ She said. I do write a lot, hell if I know if its poetry, but I do write. Then she followed with the same questioned, but rephrased, â€œWhy do you try to write poetry? What does it do for you? I mean, is it the fact that you might be discovered, become a famous poet and have the chance of immortality though literature? Or do you just write because you have nothing better to do?â€ This, I felt I can answer. And I also thought this would make a good article. So, this was my explanation to my friend.
Writing for me, is a form of release; A way to express myself in the only way that makes sense to me. Itâ€™s build up emotion thatâ€™s in your mind and heart. It just stays pinned up inside with no real form of expression. Just how I work, I really have no clue why. And when I think of a word, a phrase or an idea that just jolts all my emotions, thatâ€™s when I start writing. As soon something like that happens, I just start writing. As I do so, I keep rambling in my head. Different lines, phrases, words, ideas, tons of things going through my mind that I sometimes even ramble out loud. Writing to me is like screaming when youâ€™re angry or frustrated, crying when youâ€™re sad, telling a significant other how wonderful they are and how much you love them. Writing for me is expressing a very strong emotion. She asked why express it this way. I thought about it for a good minute, and then responded that I donâ€™t really know any other way, and once I start, itâ€™s something I really canâ€™t stop. I just keep going till I write what I need to write on paper. Iâ€™m not too sure why it was writing, I have no clue what made me want to write things down on paper when I start to ramble things like that in my head. Itâ€™s the only thing I can really do at the time I guess. Itâ€™s funny; itâ€™s almost as if writing chose me. Then again, that might not be far from the truth. I ramble in rhymes and I it has a certain flow and it just comes and goes. And after I write whatever I need to write, itâ€™s just a sign of relief. Its like something extremely heavy has been on my mind for a long time, and I finally decided to just let it go. I feel great after I write, I feel inspired, creative, accomplished, and just reminds me that Iâ€™m human.
I doubt Iâ€™ll ever be discovered as some kind of poet by someone, and I never really gave much thought to the immortality aspect of it. I do admit, that would be great if something like that happened, but I never really gave it that much thought so no, I can honestly say this isnâ€™t the reason why I write poetry. I just think that writing poetry with this kind of motivation just doesnâ€™t seem right to me. It may work for others and all power to them, but no, not for me. I doubt Iâ€™ll ever be famous for my writing and even if I do, I just donâ€™t see myself caring much for that kind of thing. At this point, my friend pointed out my website I use to run full of my poetry, short stories and such (I stopped updating/maintaining years ago). I admitted that the website kind of contradicted what I just told her, but I explain the reason why I created the website was to have a public form. I didnâ€™t really put myself out there to try to become famous or this or that, I did so I can share what I wrote and maybe meet people that can relate to me. There isnâ€™t really any point to writing anything if no one has a chance to read it. I just felt better about myself for doing that because I feel I truly expressed myself to the world and it just didnâ€™t feel like pointless rambling in a journal. It makes my writing mean something more. She nodded and accepted my answer, and we ended the conversation something like this:
Friend: So thatâ€™s why youâ€™re a poet.
Me: Again, I really donâ€™t consider myself that.
Friend: But thatâ€™s what you write, so in my eyes, youâ€™re a poet.
Me: Iâ€™ll take your word for it. I always see it as organized rambling.
Friend: So, going to ramble anytime soon.
Me: I canâ€™t really say, Iâ€™m always bound to ramble.
Friend: I hope you never stop.
Me: I donâ€™t think I have much of a choice.
After this conversation, I asked myself the question, â€œAm I a poet?â€ I thought about this for a long time after writing this out, and in a way, it does seem like I am a poet. But I still canâ€™t help but to just think of myself as a man who loves to write and is always bound to ramble.
WORLD - AN EDGE IN MY VOICE
Copyright © 2010 J. Hoods
Bound To Ramble: Defining A Poet
Copyright © 2010 J. Hoods
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