As I wrote in March announcement, this month I’ll be writing about poetry and spirituality. For me, poetry is a way to discover what humans are. To be more precise, to write poetry is to grasp the feeling of Being. To write poetry is to understand the very fiber of Being. To bring what’s sacred in the moment is poetry.
When I think of all poems I wrote, I have a hard time recalling any favorites. It’s not that I’m one of those people who don’t love their work. It’s just that over time I wrote a lot of poems. I could say I find myself to be a rare case of not dealing with writer’s block. If you need an advice how to beat that bad boy, look here. However, through time I had different creative periods.
At first I wrote poetry. I was in my adolescence and I suffered from emotional and psychological trauma which life brought along. I had to escape, so I began writing. I wrote for days. First, I wrote stories. I wrote sci-fi stories in which characters go through horrible set of circumstances, just to find cleansing in moral turn around. One day, an old man read my stories and told me that I should start writing poetry. I was a bit baffled, but I believed that man. I started writing poetry. My first poems were confessions. I wrote in that manner for a long time.
It was my second year of writing poetry and fourth year of writing overall that time came for me to go to college. That summer was amazing. At the beginning of summer I became a college student. I had a whole summer ahead of me. I was 19 and I wrote every single day. Around then, I find myself to be curious about changing, improving my writing. A new period of writing started. I obsessed about style. My writing became sharper, cleaner and more effective. I read a lot of poetry. What piqued my interest was use of capital letters for some words in works of different poets. Example of this would be Yeats use of word Time. I pondered on the capital letter. I couldn’t shake the feeling that the word was different. After a thorough contemplation on subject I understood its importance. Word started with capital letter because poet molded it to be special. He gave the word peculiar meaning which suited his style and writing.
It was mind blowing. The idea of using words with special meaning turned my life around. Instantly, I had another idea.
What if poetry gets better if poet is able to provide words with special meaning? More than that, in search for individuality in style, what if poet invented new words to better convey his sense of being? Would his overall body of work and solemn poems be better? I wanted to give it a try.
First idea wasn’t hard to achieve in practice. Conveying a different meaning of chosen words was easy. Words can be transmuted, reshaped and changed due to rich nature of poetic imagery already being a standard in poetry. Inventing words was much harder.
The problem consisted of more than inventing words. Words had to be applicable to poetry writing, they had to be usable before all else. Inventing words by itself isn’t a hard task. However, invented words should at least sound familiar to the words of language words are invented in. Complex obstacle appeared at the moment of creating a meaning for invented words. This part of problem required more than adequate style. It required a concept in which invented words could work. I worked for days without reaching a breakthrough in my writing.
Yet, I wasn’t ready to give up. I believe hard work is a root of any achievement. I kept inventing new words. I didn’t do too well. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t progress. Then it came to me. What if invented words required more than meaning and concept? What if invented words required a dimension of their own to exist? By dimension I mean building a special setting in which invented words could shine in total depth of their meaning. A new period of writing ensued.
Thus, I came to an idea of writing of Palette: Primary colors. Following the periods listed here I wanted to write a poem book that will show a dimension of being. However colors aren’t standard in writing. I didn’t like that, I wanted colors in writing. My desire was to encompass the being of red in a poem book. With that as my main idea, I still had to create a broader concept on which I could work on.
If Red had a dimension on its own, then it had to have something to encompass that dimension. I decided to write one, final poem on true nature of red, and nine other poems which represent where humans strive for red, but don’t reach it. With this in mind, I devised the following sections for my poem book:
- Sexual hunger
Finally, a breakthrough occurred. I never use curse words when I write poetry. First section is about sexual hunger and its derivatives. Its use is to show how sexual hunger leads us astray from our being. Yet, I promised myself I wouldn’t use curse words, or explicit jargon of any kind. I wanted it to be clean.
For any form of sex or lovemaking, I invented word honey-peach. Actually, the word itself was with me for some time. To some girls who were to me of great personal importance, I used this term to convey their beauty. In the poem book, honey-peach has a broader meaning.
Honey-peach means an intense sexual pleasure or craving for such acts. By itself, honey-peach isn’t bad. It’s actually good to take a bite of it. It can be highly erotic and make the man pursue gentleness and eroticism. It all depends on the nature of our indulgence in it. Sex isn’t bad or good, it’s enjoyable. However, many people are using sex as a tool to release themselves from pain and stress. People use sex to forget themselves, to forget their being. That’s the downside of honey-peach. Also, there is a good side to it. Sex is a garden of our soul.
To pursue the way of honey-peach is to seek what’s erotic in it. When man approaches woman with dignity and respect and wants her to unfold her being, that’s honey-peach. When partners seek to find pleasure in pleasuring others, that’s honey-peach. Such deep experiences let man explore his Red, his innate erotic prowess, his being. Seeking Red is finding what’s erotic within man, within his own being.
Again, red is more than honey-peach, much more. Red conveys the meaning of passion and attentiveness, it’s spirituality. To be red, to feel red to seek red is to find spirituality. Red is the color which empowers, frees and lets man explore his creative being.
Here is a poem from my book Red.
The rose of youth blossoms in chest,
soon, you will be alone, and
anguish of aloneness are others
And yet, beings are of such destinies that
they prefer shallow touches
The hunger grows at the sea, its waves
are silent reminders of gracious trenches
when innocence danced young, but famine
came, mild poverty
Man reaches for clash of souls, yet finds
warmth in sparks of flesh
Man is not a hunter, but a prey of his
In pursuit to record history, hallways
will be the mirrors of your solemn walk,
fragrance of salt, bodies dripping in wholeness,
standing in crystal lakes permitted to
dream of being, thirsting for night of truth
The hunger is the sea, a voice of great rage that
only a chosen few can hear, its shell is
the graceful grasp of hands people easily learn
to love, lovely honey-peach
Honey-peach is born of Red, it can be
as holy as Red is
Honey-peach is ever consuming sweetness,
born in entwined bodies that crave each other,
one which Man knows for seeks a horizon in
which he is never alone
In honey-peach Red provokes Man
For Man can forget his being with honey-peach
It’s to be embraced, tasted, long night
dissolving in plausible boundaries of pleasure,
one from which is troublesome to get away
Man knows only wind and sand, even more
as he is lost in taste of honey-peach
Ever-being of light shines on Man, through
Red as its faithful rose, but there is dust
not flowers, for a honey-peach mouthful
The heart of honey-peach is white,
its color is of what Man truly is, but
he won’t remember
Red remembers being
You can purchase the book:
Michael of Moon
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