Driven

I’ve written elsewhere how, like many others, I feel I write because I have to; ideas come into my head and I need to set them out and explore them, to bring them to a conclusion. Because I feel driven by these ideas.

I’ve also written of how the muse sometimes just ups and leaves and hightails out of town. Then I just dry up. But all that time, the ideas will still pop up, perhaps in broken form or just as hints – the odd phrase, a line or two, but refuse to meld with others to make a whole.

That, I would venture, is when you understand the artist within you. You don’t just say Oh, forget it! I’ll take up trainspotting instead! and ignore the tiny sparks that continue to force their way into your consciousness. You note down those ideas, and struggle to tease something – anything – out of them that you can use, knowing that sooner or later they will lead to something.

Yes, that’s when you know you’re driven.

The Praising Purple Prose Poem

My humble, grovelling apologies for my lamentable lack of activity recently. Busy, busy, busy…and so little time. And at my age, too. Shouldn’t be allowed. So I’ll just pop up one of my dubious poems (that’s dubious as in merit, rather than taste) as a peace offering, and I’ll try and catch up with a few of the blogs I follow…tomorrow.

I’m a bit tired now…

043a

The Praising Purple Prose Poem

Purple prose that nobody wants,

Can find a home

In my poem.

 

These offcuts and discarded words,

Too rich for others to use,

Are just what I need for my poem.

 

Here on the dusty floor,

This is Just what I was looking for,

For my poem.

 

I’m collecting it up,

If you’re throwing it out,

And I’m slotting it into

My poem.

 

Give it to me,

I can put it just there

Between those two lines,

Of my poem.

 

Too rich for their taste?

Well, it won’t go to waste,

In my poem.

 

Since that flowery tone,

Is just like my own,

In my poem.

 

Alliterative, flowery, rollicking lines,

The sort that Dylan Thomas would write;

 

I’ll give them a home,

In my poem.

Be gentle with me, dear reader.