To Be Loved (© 1988 Paramount)
I was determined to write something – anything – today. It didn’t matter if it was a strong piece, or if it was a short story, poem, or even a knock-knock joke without a punch line. I was going to put a few words down, even if it killed me.
And it damn near did. I wrote a poem about love.
I suppose this is what I get for abandoning my daily writing for the last week or two. I was hesitant to post this – not just because of the topic of love, but because my determination was solely focused on getting something down – but in the end, my love for family and writing, and the unquenchable thirst to love both even more, prevailed. What you have below is something that resembles a short poem about love.
As my son would say, “heavy,” but I hope that love knocks on your door.
Knock Knock Love
to be loved
is ideal
but to love
is real
a fear, a fall
from grace
a thirst, unquenched
disgrace
to be cherished
unreal
to cherish
surreal
to love, mistakes
desires forsake
measures that take
for you, to be
loved by me
eternal Domnation 
How beautiful. I’ve come across a significant amount of poetry that was wonderfully descriptive, but I failed to really connect with it. You used the perfect amount of words, in the perfect placement that created a palpable mood but left the opportunity for the reader to connect with in in his/her own way. You’re magnificently talented!
Oh my, thank you 🙂 I can’t say I ever really think of myself as a talented writer. There is just so much to learn, and such amazing writing out there (in the books I read, the bloggers I follow, and the random posts I read!). Humbled and blushed by your praise – you have really made my day, thank you!!!
One way to look at poetry, particularly for an uncut, unpolished poet, just beginning to grapple with words not written in strong, straight prose, is to think of it as mining one’s emotions and putting the nuggets on display without further polish or order.
I write to please myself, and share it with others hoping they would love my writing, and in turn love me for what I am, no matter how inchoate the array of my words are.
I know serious writing is prompted to go for editing and polishing till the words and sentences sparkle and you see the picture as a complete hedonist. But sometimes, you can love a writing that is like a set of uneven teeth framed in a smile of utter innocence and love.
Here is one such poem, an uneven set of teeth, that I wrote and did not set in braces. Again, the subject is ‘love’:
|| In Love ||
I know I am in love,
That impalpable feeling
Of not knowing what to do with time
Of not knowing
Of not being
Of existing without a feeling
Only feeling …
Feeling that I am in love
And not feeling anything else
Of eying without seeing
Of harking without hearing
Of touching without feeling
Of … Oh! Of, what?
Oh! How helpless I feel!
Helpless? No, no, I do not feel anything at all
Except that I am in love.
Oh! How hopeless I feel
That love has at last arrived,
When my soul has departed
Looking for it
In my soul there was this hope
That love would come to me
Only when it, my soul, left me
To let love in
For, love and ego could not coexist!
And yet, why did my soul pursue love?
—
28 Nov 2013
Mikupa, thank you for sharing your beautiful poem and for you thoughtful comment. I really appreciate your insight and inspiration – I really admire the ease in which you framed poetry. I can feel what you have said, in fact teeth without braces is a great analogy for the poetry I aspire to write! I’m afraid I’m still pulling teeth, but then again I’m okay with that. I think with more practice I will begin to avoid the over-polishing and start to see the smile form. Thank you again for sharing your great poem and kind words.
eternal Domnation,
You are welcome. Just keep smiling … it is the most infectious disease loved by mankind.
Beautiful
Thank you 🙂
That was simply lovely. I love you brother
Mwahhh, thank you sister. I love you too! 🙂
Well done. Habit is all when it comes to writing, I’m thinking. The less of any particular type of writing, regardless of how much other, makes it harder to start again. Just neglecting one blog because of concentrating on a different one seems to make it so difficult to really get back into the first.
Thank you so very much. I agree, habit plays a big role. It’s one reason why I love November each year. Nanowrimo is a binge for writers, and it just shows how much work you can get done in a single month. I really what you mean there – getting back to a blog after a while is so difficult. Sometimes, it just takes a poem to get the knuckles loose again! Thanks again!
I love the attachment of fear and love. I’ve been exploring the ideas of fear and abandoning fear through love. Thank you for your additional words. Nice post.
Thank you, Karin. Man, I agree. It’s such an amazing contradiction. It’s something that really fascinates me, in writing, and drives me, in real life. I’m just now starting to scratch the surface of all of it. Thanks again for letting me know that you enjoyed it, really appreciate it!
I’m such a left-brained being that poetry, even though I enjoy it, intimidates me. As with visual and performance art, I see, hear and know what I like…what stimulated my senses. With poetry, I struggle in part with not knowing what the poet is thinking or hopes others may embrace. The poet has a certain filter through which they choose and share words that may be beautiful to me yet beauty may not even be intended.
My woes aside, suffice it to say that I feel I understood your poem; it was warm and touching. Is that too simple a perspective? I guess, in the end, that’s all that really matters is how your outpouring affects others. Consider me favorably affected. 🙂
Thank you, Eric. I am actually the same way. I do read poetry, in small bursts, but writing it is incredibly intimidating. I am so grateful for the wordpress community, without this blog I’m not sure I would have ever attempted something like this (when it comes to poems about love, jury is still out on whether that would have been a bad thing!).
I like how you pull in our senses as a way to measure our enjoyment of art. It’s so true, it is so much easier to appreciate someone’s work when you literally smile or cry with emotion from something you have seen, heard, or even touched. But to feel something inside is so much harder to translate – did a poem make me feel something? And if it did, was that something that I felt what was intended? And if it didn’t make me feel a darn thing – is there something wrong with…the artist? Or is the problem with me?!!!
I’m delighted with your complement – favorably affected, is a notion that truly never came to mind as I was committing these words to paper. I actually just wanted to write something, and this is what I wrote. Becoming a father has taught me so much about my own ability to love – better put, my need to love – in particular, the incredibly powerful tug at my heart every single time I even think about my son. It’s a love that builds on itself, and I see in it a need that simply grows with it. It is something that can never be satisfied, something – to me – incredibly more powerful than being loved. Not sure that makes sense, but anyhow that is what I tried to capture. It’s like we grow up with the romantic idea of someone falling in love with us – but it’s truly our ability to love that makes us do disastrously wonderful things.
I think this is great. Thanks for sharing!
Awesome thank you!