The Making of a Poem

This post shows the thought processes that went into the creation of the poem ‘It’s all there waiting’ which is at the end of the post.

I’m a member of a writing group that meets every Thursday. The group began after some of us went to writing workshops with a particular presenter. We had varied reactions to this presenter and we got together to discuss related issues.

The friendship between us grew and grew, and members left, new members arrived. The friendship leads to some terrific sharing of thoughts and ideas, and most of the time it leads to some great writing being shared.

Anyway, last week we were told to think of a saying/quote/maxim that meant something to us and write a piece referring to that saying etc. I may have got that wrong, but it won’t matter, because I have something written to share with the group.

The saying that struck me as a fine one is this: ‘Happiness will never come to those who fail to appreciate what they already have.’ It is quoted as being anonymous, but the words could have been written by me, they struck me as being so true.

This is how my writing toward the final poem went:

“If you’re alive, and have friends, you’re better off than many.

If you’re alive and have no friends, you’re still better off than some.

If you’re dead and people liked you, you must have lived a good life.

If you’re dead and nobody liked you, you might be better off dead.

This is how I judge my life - I have many things in my life I’m grateful for. I am alive, in no pain and I can usually live the life I want to live. I am so much better off than so many people in this world. The thing that pains me sometimes is knowing others have much and don’t realise what they have.

 The world gives us what we need, but it’s often wasted by people who forgotten how to live a life worth living. Children know the secret to it. Connect with your inner child and live your best life.”

And now the poem I wrote to present to my dear friends at tonight’s meeting:

It’s all there waiting…

I have much,

friends who care,

food and shelter.

I have family I can rely on

and Nature offers me

delights whenever I look outside.

I am truly happy.

It’s nothing too literary or anything, but it’s a valuable piece to remember every single day.

Reading the poem again now, I can see some things I might change, but I'll leave it as is and see what the group members think. I value their critiques very much.

My Edited Poem is too Shy to Come Out!

I've edited my poem about my walker, which I posted on this blog previously. Now, I don't feel up to sharing it with the world.
I write to share myself with the world, in the hope that others will find new things that may help them. This poem though, hmm, it's hiding away on my computer. Should I reach in and drag it out, or should I give it a little more time, so I can tweak it some more?
These are common thoughts for me, and I suspect other poets too. How do you know when your poem is properly cooked through? When will your poem be strong enough and right enough to make the connections you're searching for?
The only way to find out may be to put the poem out there... Not yet though, no, not yet.

The world is full of gloom and doom

Don't do this, don't do that! So many rules, it's no wonder we sit around hating life and hating ourselves. 

I want to add a happier note to the overall tone of the world. So I'm posting this poem, which shows how to get the best out of chocolate! Yum.

Guilt free

Another’s plan is to eat less chocolate,

I want to eat better chocolate and more of it.

Dark chocolate, luscious, caressing my tongue

coating my teeth so I lick each tooth

again and again, tasting the chocolate, at one

with the chocolate. The chocolate creeps in,

swallowed, and I wallow in the sublime pleasure

of the flavour. I don’t crave it, I savour it.

Giving in feels like winning, tasting

not wasting. Having enough and wanting no more.

Denying myself would be so wrong,

letting myself to have it - no guilt at all!

A new poem, waiting for your input!

I mention this poem previously on this blog, but didn't do anything about it at the time. I believe that creativity must be nurtured, but must also be left alone at times.

I've written other poems in the time between back then and now, mostly on quite different subjects. Today though, I remembered that other poem and felt the need to finish it off and turn it from a few scrappy words into a properly formed poem.

It may not be completely finished, and I certainly welcome any feedback others may have to help this poem. At the moment I'm happy with the poem, but there's no telling how I'll feel about it tomorrow. I really feel I need feedback on it, and I hoping you will help me with it.

Thanks,

Carolyn

Ode to My Walker

It arrived one day, unheralded

left by the door as one might leave a note -

no note this, but a message still, unguarded

and protected by an invisible moat.

A sign of disability and loss,

walker used by the aged and infirm -

if I took it up, what would be the cost?

I hid it inside, the gift at first was spurned.

It stayed inside, unused, as I wandered through the house

one room to the next, general cleaning up

releasing hounds and letting them back in,

throwing out each unwanted mouse

then resting with computer and coffee cup -

my peaceful times a need and not a sin.

I was hiding it seems from what was there in front of me,

passed it many times, eyes averted and didn’t see

the thing that promised much to aid my fragile walking -

the walker had the news, but I didn’t hear it talking

But the walker now is in my car,

ready if I need it.

I’ve a hunger to follow my new life’s star,

the walker will help me feed it.

Thoughts on Driving deaths

I've heard of far too many deaths from speeding. It's not only young people who die this way, but an early road death seems more tragic.
A life not yet lived, cut off on a lonely road...

Thinking about it can't change a thing, but bringing it to people's attention may have some affect, I don't know. I only know that every young person who dies on the road is a tragedy.

Who pays the bill?

A life is lost

is wisdom gained?

Those children speed past still.

My thoughts slow down

my hands stretch out,

they’re out of reach until

they realise we had a point

us bleating older ones -

speed certainly can kill

with death a sorry end.

A life has ended now,

to stop it takes the will

to force a change -

the mindset’s wrong

and those deaths all leave a bill

a charge society pays

medical, laws, funerals

tragically run of the mill.