A sample poem from my new collection

I am currently working on a new collection of poems. They will be of a suitably darker nature than my last collection (of which I am currently considering uploading, maybe to this blog or elsewhere), I intend to focus on the Emotional rather than the Cerebral. Thematically, the poems express darkness, isolation and fear. Although I often view these themes as portentous and sentimental, I intend to convey them in an oblique manner so as to avoid being overtly obvious in terms of subject matter. I am also toying with the idea of dividing the collection into two books, one intimate reflections, the other more objective observations.
Nevertheless, I offer here a sample verse from an, as yet, untitled poem:

Now is the season I feel accustomed

To the love I cultivated in winter.

I was bereft of all hope

As I wandered into the autumnal copse

Like the leaves, my heart withered.

Dejected and denied the harvest.

In the coldness, I warmed my spirit

With one vain thought of hope

Now I feel a heat emanating,

Though I know no response to give,

Only to burn until nothing remains

But ashes to been blown in new directions.

Building On Impulse: The Birth of a Poem

I thought it would be worth describing here how I believe poetry is created. Writing itself is an entirely unique craft that cannot be taught by any didactic measures, instead it relies on self-motivation and the desire to express one's own imagination.


As something of an amateur poet, I have devised my own method in which I pen my works (this includes my attempts at prose-fiction). I will describe it here in some detail, though it should not be taken as anything but advisory.


Considering the notion that 'poetry should express emotion but the poet should not feel it', I think it is important that a poem does indeed invoke emotions in the reader but that they are the reader's own emotions not simply an empathetic replication of the poet's. By attaching no sentimental values to their work, a poet avoids cringe-worthy outbursts and melodramatic ramblings, that in all honesty appear adolescent in tone.


The essence of poetry is cerebral, not emotional. A poem stems from single or multiple impulses which meld into thoughts and are translated into words. Emotions, namely self-pity and passion to name but a few, blur the true intention of the poet and their work becomes mired in conflicting emotive/figurative images that ultimately create tedious confusion.


What is needed in the crafting of poetry, in my opinion, is careful construction of thought that arises spontaneously and is nurtured into a poetic form by the discerning eye of the poet.
I will mention the Modernism movement here as I feel that its tendency to be willfully obscure encapsulates the point I am making. James Joyce's Modernist epic, Ulysses, is a prime example of translated thoughts untainted by form or convention and the result is a richly psychological odyssey that is both captivating and baffling. Great poetry requires subtlety, that is certain, so rather than ostentatious odes to wallowing in Goethe-esque sorrow or attempting to mimic the rhapsodic Romantic voice, a poet is better off delving into their own mind and fashioning their own interpretation of art, without fear of pretension. Style is simply the placement of chosen words on a page, it is the reasoning behind style that is the true poetry.


The progression of culture in this present age has led to a generation of trend-chasers, but the poet must be stoic in their own innovations and continually seek to build something out of the fragments of this broken society.