Inspiration both confuses and scares me, and for the same reasons: I don’t understand it, and I don’t know where it comes from. And I certainly can’t seem to control it. In broadest form, I get an idea, whose genesis may be known or unknown. If the inspiration is poetical, I can barf out a reasonably-good poem in a small number of minutes, but it can take longer, especially if the inspiration isn’t completely formed, or I struggle with some of the concepts that result from the inspiration. If the inspiration isn’t suited for poetry—or my conception of it—then a different course might take place. I have had “ideas” or “inspirations” that have resulted in an insane amount of writing from me, quite literally in the hundreds of thousands of words in the aggregate. Some of this I have never finished and doubt I ever will, and it is unlikely to be shared. Some inspirations have taken shorter forms—equal to a few typed, single-spaced pages. Some you have read on this blog. Some are novels that I can’t seem to get written, where I start to get the idea burning a hole in my head out of my head, but then once the form is out and typed, I can’t seem to sustain interest in the project.
I ran afoul of the ex, because she believed she didn’t inspire me, or inspire me “enough”. Of course with her, that meant the damage was done, because if I tried to show her how inspired she could make me (and I did), it automatically becomes “you’re just doing that because I brought it up…it’s not real inspiration.” That sort of reaction was just another nail in our relationship’s coffin, part of the no-win scenario I kept fighting. But she did inspire me, no matter what she might have thought. I just couldn’t seem to make her aware of it, and so I stopped trying to show her.
Inspiration, though, strikes me at odd times and places and in unexpected ways. Hopefully, I can remember enough to get it down later, but sometimes I lose the ideas, to my chagrin. Sometimes, the inspiration doesn’t pan out. Those are really annoying, because they are like ear worms you can’t get rid of, and then you finally do, and it’s disappointing. Those don’t happen all that often, but it’s enough to be annoying. I try to capture these inspirational ideas in some form so I don’t lose them, but I’m not always successful. Enough, perhaps.
My latest inspiration is an attractive young lady I know who captured my attention in a very convincing way and without really trying. As a case in point, earlier today something about her caused an inspirational moment to occur. When I finally got it down later, it took about five minutes, complete, and with which I am mostly happy. And that’s just the most-recent one. It’s still awaiting review, so I won’t post it here yet, but I will show another, wherein I attempted to be clever in sonnet form:
“How do I love thee?” seems at this remove
A trite and hackneyed phrase,
O’er-used o’er centuries past
To enumerate the innumerable.
“Shall I compare thee” similarly
Suffering the sin of familiarity,
Performs the oft-requested duty
Of comparing the incomparable.
The sonnets’ sentiments, though,
Inspire lesser poets to create
Words that fail just as well
To contain the uncontainable.
Your essence is too grand to be defined
By mere words writ within poetic lines.
This one I had to finish in a few attempts, but the basic form was there quickly, but because of the rhyming-quatrain form I had originally chosen, it required more work on my part (I mostly work in free verse), and it was late in the process where I realised that “insulting” Shakespeare’s best-known love sonnets would also be best done as a sonnet, even if it’s not strictly correct in form.
Another inspiration from a few days ago (the preceding formed a couple weeks ago) seemed like an amazing idea in my head, but once I started writing it, I ended up disappointed with the result. The start was really good, with a nautical metaphor:
Your Soul is my harbour’s beacon,
A promise of safety and solace,
Now nearer, now farther, dimmer,
A constant glow on the horizon.
The course I steer I do not know—
Shoals and banks surround me.
I cannot see stars by which to steer
The path I must follow to your shore,…
Rather than working as I had thought, it unexpectedly quickly became self-piteous and melodramatic in a way I was assuredly not trying to achieve. There are three more stanzas to this poem, and it took me about ten minutes or so to write out. I’m not ready to abandon it, but it’s simmering in the back of my mind to see if something can be made of it (I hate discarding my work, even if it is bad).
So, I get inspirations, some of which I really like and are really good (in my opinion). And occasionally, really long. But I don’t understand it, and that bothers me somewhat That’s really all I wanted to say, and that the previous post was about my ex, in case that wasn’t clear. That, and if you like my posts/writing, you are allowed to comment. First comment must be approved by me, but then you’re good to go.