World Class Poetry Blog

The Poetic Future: Why I Blog
17 May 2008, the poet @ 10:08 pm

My regular readers will know that I am passionate about poetry. I have been since my college days when I wrote my first real poem, a lyrical ars poetica titled “Threesome.” I wrote the poem in response to “Satan Says” by Sharon Olds, who was the first contemporary poet I was subjected to. Her first book turned my imagination wild and I haven’t stopped since.

When I converted to Christianity in the early 1990s, I burned that poem along with others I had written during my prolific years. I regret it now. Like many new converts, I thought I was supposed to destroy every vestige of my sinful past and get on with “the new life.” I wasn’t mature enough to realize that isn’t the case. And I didn’t have honest and wise counsel to stop me. As a result, I watched my best words go up in flames.

I still remember the first few lines of “Threesome.” I always will. And so will my fellow workshop students, many of whom responded to the poem by returning it un-critiqued. I took their silence as a sign that I was onto something.

In those days, my one ambition was to go into literary annals as one of the best writers, or poets, of my era. That was my goal. Everything I did (in my life, in my writing - indeed, my writing was my life) was meant to propel me forward in that pursuit. I was single-minded about it.

I think I have missed my chance to reach that goal. I’ve learned that life sometimes gets in the way of a good goal. Mistakes, errors in judgment, pleasures, pains, distractions. As John Lennon once said, “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.” My other plans were to die a well-known and successful author - whatever it takes.

Today, my goal isn’t to be the best writer. It’s to be an influence.

When I think back on literary history at authors who have made an impact in one way or another, those who made the greatest contributions to literature were those who influenced others in some way. Walt Whitman, Edgar Allan Poe, Jack Kerouac, Emily Dickinson. I realize these are all American poets, and there are many more who could make the list, but these stand out as major poets of their era, not necessarily for their own personal contributions, but more so because of the influence they have had and the influence they continue to have for later generations of writers and creators.

Whitman’s Leaves of Grass was a major achievement in and of itself. But without it we might never have known Carl Sandburg, Langston Hughes, Allen Ginsburg, or the many thousands of other voices who have been inspired and motivated to write by the inventor of American literature himself. He really did create the “American” literary genre. Practically all “free verse” writers owe a debt to Whitman for taking us away from the strict rhyme and meter of the past - a double-edge sword achievement that one can neither defend nor criticize without embarrassment.

Edgar Allan Poe has been a major influence on many writers (including me) of various traditions and can be credited with being a huge influence upon writers of two different genres - mystery writing and science fiction. He practically invented the mystery story and, along with Jules Verne, pioneered science fiction writing. And if you include horror/thriller writing as a separate genre from the mystery then he can be credited with being a major influence on three branches of writing that are still quite popular today.

Let’s just say that writers who influence others beyond their own works are much more important than writers who simply write great works themselves. Ernest Hemingway may have written some great stories, but very few writers really owe their lives and careers to him as an influence.

I don’t claim to be on the same level as Poe or Whitman (or even Hemingway). Nor do I claim to have made (and it has yet to be seen that I will) any significant contributions to world literature, but I have it within me. And, to go on yet another diversion, there are many influencers who live and die and do not have a name that lives beyond those they have influenced yet still manage to have an influence, even if indirectly, many years beyond the next generation. I’d settle for that if I could.

Blogging for me is a way to release the inner spirit, to create without pressure. I may post one day something that is very light and even trivial then the next day spend considerable time composing a thoughtful essay. I might delve deeply into inner sanctums or wade shallowly into blissful nowheres. Each post is insignificant compared to the volume of posts that I expect to make over the course of my blogging venture. This is quite different than how I see my poetic writing, which is much more taxing on my brain because I don’t take any one line or phrase lightly. If a word, a punctuation mark, a phrase, a line, or what have you, isn’t the best it could be then it doesn’t belong in any of my poems. I love to murder my words.

I don’t feel that way about blogging. Blogging is my way of letting others control the destiny of my thoughts, though it is I who compose. Every poem I write is wholly mine, but a blog post could come from anywhere. It may be a reaction to something I have on another blog, it might be off the top of my head. It could just be thoughts that I’ve been pondering for weeks. In the end, though, I am conscious that every post has the potential to outlive me (and I’m still young enough that this form of writing could go on for a very long time).

I could very well spend the time that I blog doing something else - like composing new poems or revising ones that should be revised. Instead, I seek to influence. This is my “Letters To A Young Poet.” Maybe not much, but it’s something. And if it inspires, or angers, or titillates then it does what I hope it will do. And I hope that if my readers find something they like, or don’t, then they will share it with others as well. In that way, I might hope to transmogrify into the Beyond leaving behind a trace for the next wave of literary greats - Lord knows I’ll never be one.

4 Comments a “The Poetic Future: Why I Blog”

1. Jim Murdoch — May 18, 2008 @ 5:53 am
   

   I have moved home so many times and every time a bit more of the past has been consigned to black bags, all the music I wrote as a kid is gone bar one tune on and old cassette, all my painting apart from two my wife had framed and now hang on our living room wall. Somehow all my writing survived with the exception of the first poem I wrote when I was about nine. I read my poetry like a diary because I pretty much remember where I was when it was written, what was going through my head and all the stuff that never quite made it into the poem. I’m really glad I still have them.

2. Rachel Fox — May 19, 2008 @ 4:10 am
   

   I enjoyed reading this post. Interesting on writing and blogging and living and…all that!

3. carolina maine — August 28, 2008 @ 9:47 pm
   

   I loved this post. I destroyed volumes of my work because I thought “God wanted me to.” Oh well. Live and learn.

   Thanks for putting a link to my blog; I will include you in my link roll.

   Great page.

4. the poet — August 28, 2008 @ 10:04 pm
   

   Thanks Carolina.

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