I haven’t written a new poem for more than a month, and this worries me. I think I wrote more than a hundred in 1998, probably because I fell in love in 1997. But in 2013 I wrote 50 poems, which is nearly one a week. Each one was the result of a creative impulse that appeared almost fully-formed from some tiny origin, perhaps a random thought, perhaps something that I heard or read. I don’t deliberatley set out to construct a poem to conform with some pre-determined plan, although on a few occasions – three or four – I have taken up the challenge of a poetry editor to write a poem of a specific kind. If these attempts hadn’t been successfu, by my standards, they would never have seen the light of day!
I think on this blog there’s a mini-essay called ‘Where do poems come from?’ Mine come from all that has made me – my life, my experiences, my education, my reading, my emotions, my love affairs…. Recently the needs of a friend have been a priority that has sapped my creative energy a bit.
I grumble that my muse has taken a holiday. That could be a way of transferring blame to someone other than myself. Perhaps I am being lazy, perhaps simply lacking in the will to write.
Maybe this blog should be titled:’Muse, where have the poems gone to?”
Filed under: Autobiographical, Poetry, Writing
