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Method of A Poet

How should a poet initiate to start writing poetry? For a seasoned poet, it is spontaneous activity to pen down the ideas and emotions into verse.The known characteristic of a poet is a secluded place, certain physical traits such as thinking gestures, looking into wide horizon, and good reading habits. The best poems however, can come at any place and situation. 

What process does a poet goes through before he attempts his piece. Imagine a busy road by a building and a window view, the poet will take note of surroundings and whilst without any inhibition, he will embark on a poem writing. Physically, one may require a notebook and a pen and a suitable environment to do so.

We will however, judge a different situation. Imagine another scenario, where the poet is sitting outside a shopping mall by a busy road with anything to scribble on. The objective is to talk on nature with the sky being overcast with clouds but there is zest among public related to sales at mall. The poet now cannot possibly surrender to the situation and look for a viable solution or attempt at some other time.

To be ideal is somewhat is akin to Platonism but considering that these are merely milestones for a poet and not an ideology, a stricter Plato version can be forsaken.

Reference:

"At times he appears to attribute their art to divine inspiration or to a form of madness.

J. Reber holds that Plato criticizes poetry because it is imitation, because the artist is ignorant of the things which he imitates, and because poetry addresses itself to the lower faculties of man, with which he can not grasp truth."

From book "Harvard Studies in Classical Philology" Published by Department of the Classics, Harvard University.
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A poem is handiwork of a poet's mind or a stage at which one arrives after leaving many personal and superficial components of self and the space. Art is not sciences or even a philosophy so most of the regular works are reminiscent of the present and/or experiences. Some creative works go ahead and play with different ideas of human (et al.) emotions and behaviors. Thus, the end piece lends a fresh perspective on its own without the need to support any rule or principle of the universe. The reader is independent and can deduce any meaning of the work. While most of the publishing houses are able to judge the importance of a work by coming to certain inferences but the overall impact is independent of it.


At any time, the literary judgements can also biased and region specific and undergo change. Thus, even in its own theory, a work is a transient entity. Its popularity can flow with time or be reduced to a time period of the century.


No poet can produce all the works in the same capacity. There is marked difference in the method and also popularity. However, a poet's journey is different from literary consciousness of the same time and has separate influence for the readers and in literature.

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Echoes, my new poetry book

Echoes published by Write India is recently released in September.  It has been an amazing experience to through them once again and truly as desired they echo through mind and soul.

Here is blurb at back of book:

Consistency where life frames women in different roles and you feel inhabited.

In such serenity I sit and think saturated with thoughts.  A woman speaking of in her element perennially devises how way further will be for her without the barriers of struggle.  Nature is succour.  One easily connects with primal action born of thought. As innate as vital energy of mind and body, the poems here touch aspects of womanhood subliminally.

It would not be in woods or meadows far reaching only through echoes, it would beat deep inside throbbing and touching through aspects of life.



A Poem from Echoes:

Cold winds with those dark clouds
on my sky are my aspirations
where horizon of blue sublime,
tiny corpuscles of lime,
from where I have sprung and this haste
do I even know the melody…

Again the Sky

First published on Literary journal.

Today showered again the sky I wondered if soaking the streets I choose to ignore.
Small leaves sprout and crawl inside me, branches spread out, straws are collected nests are created.
Lone pathway on feet speck of air or earth so full, and my own heart's silence in this moment's time.

Moon and stars

moon again behind
the hills what
myth I build on my story


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a star out of canvas
I am 
here with truth


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few stars in sky
and angles in and out 
can't locate more

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only one more round
at moon hedge
full of jasmine