I was being sarcastic.
This is not a cheerful post.
Because I’ve been writing poetry again, and my poetry is decidedly not cheerful, aha. Fun.
I’m tempted to blog about all the delicious foods I’ve been devouring lately, but I shall keep to a poetry-centre post today, since this is still, technically a poetry blog. *Cough.*
So, for someone whose dissertation was a collection of poetry/all about poetry, you’d think I read a lot of poetry myself, but actually I don’t.
To find a poet whom you truly resonate with is a difficult thing; poetry is such a personal and subjective form that although there might be poems you like by a poet- to find whole collection of poetry by the same author which enthrals and captivates you is a rare and precious thing.
I recently stumbled across the work of Izumi Shikibu, a Japanese poet from the Heian period.
Her poetry is short. Her poetry is poignant. And her poetry is beautiful.
With there only being so many I could find available to read online, I immediately purchased a collection of her works; something which I have never done for any poet.
If The One I’ve Waited ForIf the one I’ve waited for came now, what should I do? This morning’s garden filled with snow is far too lovely for footsteps to mar.
Honestly, because all of my energy was tied up with writing my novel and then the sequel, I’d written no poetry since my dissertation. But something in Shikibu’s work really set off a creative spark inside, and this past week I’ve been writing poem after poem after poem. It’s been really rewarding to see them spring to life on the page.
I like writing about love, because it’s a big thing to write about. It
So, not cheerful, but hopefully poignant enough to give a little thought.
SpillNot warm, But sun warmed. Golden on my back. And when the clouds form Like torn cotton Pulled cotton Teased and textured cotton; The warmth drains, all fades, all mutes And grey remains.