I used to write a lot of poetry. Or, I should say, there was a period in my life in which I wrote a substantial amount of poetry. I wasn’t one of those emo kids in the 10th grade, sitting out on the bleachers penning sappy bullshit about feeling excluded from the mainstream world – in fact, I didn’t really start writing poetry at all until college. It was there, however, that I found myself writing more poetry than fiction – and, if I looked past the cliches that seem to hover around the poetic arts, I actually found myself enjoying writing verse.
I’ve always considered myself a ‘fictioneer’, and so after college (and towards the end), I left behind the short, indented lines and moved back to what I was comfortable with.
Lately, though, the feeling, the need to get back to what I had found interest in before has been seeping into my mind, and today I decided to take a go at it. After finding a copy of Charles Bukowski’s “The Pleasures of the Damned” at Barnes & Noble, I realized that there isn’t any use in putting off the desire any longer. Of course, I don’t really have a gritty, drunken wealth of memories like Bukowski did, so what I can pull from is minor – but maybe it’s better that I haven’t slept with a bunch of women and tried to live life in an alcohol-induced haze. (Cheers to Bukowski, though – without all of that, you wouldn’t be you, good sir.)
So, updated on my writing page are two poems, Untitled no. 1 and Untitled no. 2. I absolutely do not like titling poetic works, so titles will be in short supply. However, do check them out. Suggest a title. Write some of your own poetry. Dance naked in your living room.
Or whatever.
Tagged: charles bukowski, dancing naked, fiction, poems, poetics, poetry, revelations, self reflection, writing
