If I’m asked what poetry is to me I would have no answer, I could write and have written poems on what poetry is but I still find myself stumbling across notions and words to say anything, if one thinks about a new idea to write a poem every minute of the day will you call it obsession or passion?
I call it desperation, because there are a million poets writing a million poems in a day so if an idea is out I cannot write for it anymore because that would mean copying and I don’t do that, I have at least a hundred poems in my drafts and I’m scared to death that if I delay putting them out there for all to read there will be someone else with that idea in their head and I will have to give up posting it as mine if I don’t post it first, in the past I’ve had to let go of two micro-poems because a fellow poet had already posted something on those lines, so that has now come to become my life, constantly trying to come up with something that no one has written but this is about micro-poems, of course there are long poems where we repeat lines but I try my best to bring something new to the reader’s mind, I mean how many times can one read about stars in eyes right?
They say we are in a golden age, networking wise, but I find it more a bane than a boon, at least to a poet, all ideas and lines are out there hovering in web-space and I have to break my head over what to write which is new and not recycled and refreshingly different for the reader, it is a task, so of course I am thinking about it all the time, to sum it up I’ll say that poetry to me is my baby of which I want to be proud so I go about my work with integrity and I am very desperate, desperate for new ideas, for new lines and desperate to be the first to come up with a refreshingly different take on a million year old topic `love’ …
the following micro-poems are about what poetry is to me, my night sky and my oozing wound, I truly do wonder if my vulnerability can give birth to my poetry then my strength can do wonders, but like they say, a poet exploits everything, maybe I’m just exploiting every experience, mine and other’s, well, I should right?
the night sky…
what my strength
**artwork by the very talented S.I.N.A’S. D.O.O.D.L.E.S do check this artist’s page for inspiration.
©Seema Tabassum 2017
All content and images copyright 2017
All rights reserved.
I bleed love…
and they call it poetry
**artwork by me, but the idea was from an illustration I came across on Pinterest.
©Seema Tabassum 2016
All content and images copyright 2016
All rights reserved.
To read another poem on `Poetry’ kindly click here. Thank you.
I hope you enjoy reading.Thank you for stopping by and please leave a comment because my website is self-hosted I don’t have the regular features where you can just like my poem, most appreciate your time.