E. B. White put much of himself into his writing. White loved nature and farms. Spiders, pigs, geese, horses, cows, sheep. The only creatures for which White had no affection were rats. Templeton is a scavenging glutton. Charlotte is a hero. Wilbur is a hero, too, sort of. White's predilections are all through the book. As he said, Charlotte's Web is both a mask and an unveiling for him.
Every time I sit down to write, whether it's a poem or blog post or essay, I'm revealing a little of myself. Sometimes, a lot. Sometimes, too much. That's what I love about words. Poetry, in particular, is all about truth. The best poems, the ones that truly grab me by the throat, are the ones that touch upon some deep truth.
I also think most good poems come from a place of pain. It's that pain that everyone recognizes and identifies. Everyone has felt isolated. Everyone has felt rejection. Everyone has experienced loss and grief. Poetry, for me, is a way of exorcising those emotions. Poetry is dangerous. That's why so many poets ended up exiled or imprisoned throughout history. Poetry can change the world.
Tonight, however, I'm not changing anything with this post. All I'm doing is sharing what's on my mind this evening. Poetry. Truth. Pain.
Three of Saint Marty's favorite things.
 |
| When the dog bites, write a poem about it... |
No comments:
Post a Comment