Repost Oct 23, 2017: The sounds of words

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From Pixabay

My first love is sound.

My second love is poetry.

If I sit in the square of any city in any world and allow my ears to unfocus I can hear rhythms and music. I have done this in Johannesburg and Misawa. I have listened to the sounds of Ramstein. Each have their own rhythms and sounds.

So to me language is just sound. When I have to put sound to meaning then there can be a problem, especially when I have to be attentive. That takes energy.

To me, poetry is one step from sound. My English professor would tell me that poetry was the essence of meaning and that every word should be distilled for maximum impact. It is true that poetry must be pared down until the meaning is clear, but it is not poetry if the sound is not right.

I have written formal poetry with formal rhythms and I have also written free verse. In my experience, even free verse has its own consistent internal rhythm. So poetry needs sound and rhythm.

If it sounds like a music, then you would be right. In my small world every poem is a small sound. It might be why I like to write sonnets, which means a little poem or if you go to the Latin root it means a little sound.

When I switched to stories, I had to learn how to write again. Those little pieces of poetry that I loved so much sometimes had to be cut because they were not a part of the story. I had to learn characters and how those characters interacted with others.

Other people would sit in the squares and make up stories about the people around them. I was listening to sound. I had to switch my thinking. I admit that I told stories to my brothers at bedtime. They were stories I had read and sometimes I would change the story just a bit so that young boys would enjoy them. But until fifteen years ago, I had not written stories. I had written poetry, memoirs, and essays.

It has been a challenge. Sometimes I wonder if I am writing interesting stories. Then I talk to other writers and authors and find out that deep dark secret. Most of us think we are frauds.

We don’t know if we are writing well. In my case, I write and hope someone else will enjoy my books. If not, I would write anyway because even though I believe I can quit anytime like an addict, I can’t. If I didn’t write stories, I would write poetry. If I didn’t write, I would dream.

This is my manifesto. I have lived adventure. I have explored Northern Japan, Panama, and Germany. If I could still travel, then I would. I would probably not write though and would feel emptiness and restlessness.

I was born to be a poet. I have made myself a writer.

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Inside my head

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From Pixabay

Lately I’ve been dreaming. The last one I remember is I was searching for an object that I had lost because I was careless. I took a dream psychology course once. My professor had us keep track of our dreams for extra credit. I was a good little drone and was willing to do it for an A. It was not easy opening my subconscious to his view.

I think this professor would have  told me that last night’s dream was a type of wish-fulfillment. I went to exotic locales and met interesting people just to ask for this lost object. Some were helpful while others turned me away. It felt as real as if I were in another world. I woke up exhausted.

I saw a glimpse of my late-hubby. So yea, he would have said wish-fulfillment dream.

The medications I take to keep my disease under control has diminished some of the abilities I once had at pattern recognition. Plus I have carefully sequestered myself from news and news outlets. I do stop to check the weather or to see what is happening in my community. When I watch them, I see doom in the future just because of what they say.

I have enough going on in my life that is hard to overcome. Besides the news hasn’t changed much in twenty years. There is more focus on horrible events and less focus on hopeful events.

I haven’t lost this ability to see immediate future of people around me. It doesn’t take a psychic or a researcher to know that if someone doesn’t walk, he will eventually get to the point where he can’t walk. If someone doesn’t take care of himself, he will get sick and die. It is a common thread of humankind. What I don’t get is that the person who is not caring for themselves is surprised when they get deathly ill.

In a larger sense, I see this with organizations. Take for instance social media. Does anyone remember the bigger social media account before Facebook? I’ve even forgotten the name. I know I left that site when I found it hard to find people to talk to instead of sexual predators. I’m embarrassed to even say I had an account.

Even organizations have a limit. I point to “Ma Bell.” In my early years, it was the only telephone communication network in the US. Now we can choose from several networks.

I am also seeing this with TV and streaming services. I left Netflix due to the programming and went to Hulu. Others will also vote with their money– or cyber coin. When an organization monopolizes, then I see that it is in the last years of its life. It may hang on for decades, but its end is assured.

The one thing I know about today is that we are in a tech revolution. It is hard and it is chaotic. We have more information at our fingertips then any other generation of people. We are overwhelmed by what we have and what we can do.

In my dream, I finally stopped looking for that object. Just as I began enjoying the wind feathering my cheek, the blue sky, and the sun against my skin, I woke up. I know what I need to stay focused. I need calm and a plan.

So I turn off the news.

 

The sounds of words

coffee-2670190_1920

From Pixabay

My first love is sound.

My second love is poetry.

If I sit in the square of any city in any world and allow my ears to unfocus I can hear rhythms and music. I have done this in Johannesburg and Misawa. I have listened to the sounds of Ramstein. Each have their own rhythms and sounds.

So to me language is just sound. When I have to put sound to meaning then there can be a problem, especially when I have to be attentive. That takes energy.

To me, poetry is one step from sound. My English professor would tell me that poetry was the essence of meaning and that every word should be distilled for maximum impact. It is true that poetry must be pared down until the meaning is clear, but it is not poetry if the sound is not right.

I have written formal poetry with formal rhythms and I have also written free verse. In my experience, even free verse has its own consistent internal rhythm. So poetry needs sound and rhythm.

If it sounds like a music, then you would be right. In my small world every poem is a small sound. It might be why I like to write sonnets, which means a little poem or if you go to the Latin root it means a little sound.

When I switched to stories, I had to learn how to write again. Those little pieces of poetry that I loved so much sometimes had to be cut because they were not a part of the story. I had to learn characters and how those characters interacted with others.

Other people would sit in the squares and make up stories about the people around them. I was listening to sound. I had to switch my thinking. I admit that I told stories to my brothers at bedtime. They were stories I had read and sometimes I would change the story just a bit so that young boys would enjoy them. But until fifteen years ago, I had not written stories. I had written poetry, memoirs, and essays.

It has been a challenge. Sometimes I wonder if I am writing interesting stories. Then I talk to other writers and authors and find out that deep dark secret. Most of us think we are frauds.

We don’t know if we are writing well. In my case, I write and hope someone else will enjoy my books. If not, I would write anyway because even though I believe I can quit anytime like an addict, I can’t. If I didn’t write stories, I would write poetry. If I didn’t write, I would dream.

This is my manifesto. I have lived adventure. I have explored Northern Japan, Panama, and Germany. If I could still travel, then I would. I would probably not write though and would feel emptiness and restlessness.

I was born to be a poet. I have made myself a writer.