Done Mulling.

Thanks to all who left comments about the two versions of my poem. In a real sense, my struggle with this poem is the same struggle I have with blogging. For whom do I write? Do I write to achieve some sort of status or simply because I like to write — both poetry and posts.
At my stage of the game, I’ve mulled around to these conclusions (to which most of you have already come, and to which I come around periodically; but about which I still have to go through the occasional process of mulling, anyway.)
When I sit down to write, be it poem or post, I do it because I have the urge to communicate something to the world. Whether the world notices it or not is not up to me. What’s up to me is to say what I have to say in the best way that I know how. And, at this stage of my game, to find pleasure — not status or fame — in the saying. I’m glad that I was accepted into and took Grennon’s workshop for many reasons, including having a chance to connect with other poets, getting some tips on revising and editing, and being reminded that what’s important is refining my OWN voice, not imitating someone else’s.
Getting back to the poem: The first version is mine; the second is based on suggestions made by (much more accomplished poet) Eamon Grennon. While there are things I like about his approach/style, it’s not mine; it’s his. I don’t write poetry with long, prose-like lines. I, like many of my commentors below, like the rhythm of the short lines. I don’t know what art is but I know what I like. So, there you are.
And, so here I am, posting instead of poetry-ing, which is what I feel like doing on this gloomy Mother’s Day.
I don’t bother celebrating holidays these days. My mom doesn’t really enjoy much of anything. Not that, I think, she ever did; celebrations of any kind were her way of doing something so that later she could say that she did something wonderful. There was no enjoying “the moment” in my family of origin. Everything was for some effect that could be documented and recounted some time in the future.
I’m still learning to celebrate the moment. Like getting an email from Stu Savory, a blogger I hadn’t encountered before but who somehow encountered me (through Frank Paynter, I think). I’m adding him to my blogroll.
There are some other changes on my sidebar as well, like the Kali image with the lily sticking out of her nose, looking like the madwoman-in-the-moon. And the quote underneath, of which non-blogger myrln reminded me and which I tend to think was stuck in my subconscious when I chose the title for this weblog. Strange flower, indeed.
Happy Mother’s Day, all you mothers out there.

2 thoughts on “Done Mulling.

  1. What an interesting bit of info. It pleases me because it confirms what I had been feeling but left unsaid: that the mechanical approach to poetry seems to result in what I would call “academic poetry.” That’s poetry that comes from someplace other than the soul; it’s manufactured according to some arbitrary guidelines. Write the way you write because that’s REAL. You already know and have known intuitively what constitutes poetry. Trust that.

  2. Hear, hear! What mrln said. You don’t need no stinkin’ classes! They are good for stimulus, impetus, momentum, to get your ass movin’ … to remind us “how” to self-edit, and that’s about it.
    Say, did you receive my Mother’s Day email? I sent out a few to special moms a week ago, then my computer crashed, and I never heard from anyone! Now I’m thinking maybe they didn’t really get sent afterall?
    I love the new font, makes it so much easier to read. (Old eyes, lol.)

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