What Should a Poet Do?

[Jassy Melson]

when he turns sixty-four
and he realizes that the unicorn
is not going to come out of the forest
and feed from his hand anymore;
that inspiration has dried up never to be renewed;
that the muse has drifted away to greener pastures--
never to return.
What is he to do?
Should he continue to write mediocre verse,
knowing he's only marking time;
or should he go back in the past and revise
all his work; perhaps publish a collection
of his best work?
What should he do?
He knows that he has only a few years left;
and he knows he cannot force inspiration.

At age eighteen he gave his life up to poetry;
for forty-six years he never betrayed her;
through all the joy and misery,
all the tragedies and triumphs,
he never lost his faith in her;
and she continued to caress him
and inspire him with poetry that burned
and that was beautiful.
But the body grows old
and the spirit grows tired
and the muse, after all is said and done,
is fickle and ultimately heartless.
After all is said and done, he knows it's over
as far as poetry goes; sometimes he cannot help but think
it was all futile.
He thinks of beginning again--
this time with prose.

[Twota]

So sweet!

[Jassy Melson]

Sweet? I would say bittersweet.

[YesNo]

Nice build up to that last line.

[Jerrybaldy]

I remember you.

[everyadventure]

Time to find yourself a new muse, my dear.

[Jassy Melson]

There is only one muse, "my dear"

After many years, and a poet loses inspiration, there are only two things left to do: either quit writing completely or find some other means of inspiration to continue writing (not necessairly poetry). I have chosen prose--and occasionally prose poems.

[jajdude]

Why is age such a factor? Wasn't some great stuff written by old-timers? Burnout or writer's block comes and goes. A poet writes when inspired. Not sure what age has to do with it.

[IceM]

when he turns sixty-four
and he realizes that the unicorn
is not going to come out of the forest
and feed from his hand anymore;
that inspiration has dried up never to be renewed;
that the muse has drifted away to greener pastures--
never to return.
What is he to do?
Should he continue to write mediocre verse,
knowing he's only marking time;
or should he go back in the past and revise
all his work; perhaps publish a collection
of his best work?
What should he do?
He knows that he has only a few years left;
and he knows he cannot force inspiration.

At age eighteen he gave his life up to poetry;
for forty-six years he never betrayed her;
through all the joy and misery,
all the tragedies and triumphs,
he never lost his faith in her;
and she continued to caress him
and inspire him with poetry that burned
and that was beautiful.
But the body grows old
and the spirit grows tired
and the muse, after all is said and done,
is fickle and ultimately heartless.
After all is said and done, he knows it's over
as far as poetry goes; sometimes he cannot help but think
it was all futile.
He thinks of beginning again--
this time with prose.

I'm a little conflicted by the poem. As a comprehensive whole, it works well for me; I'm digging the message, the sentiment, the progression of age as a symbol for the dying of the speaker and his works.

My issue is with the cliche, the "tragedies and triumphs," the "joy and misery" that leaves too open a consideration for the audience. I respect the right of art to inspire thought and develop sympathy through the work in question, but I often find that a concrete sense of place in a work creates thought better than broad, sweeping generalizations, as my quotated excerpts suggest. However, in this case I find myself moved to sympathy by the cliches; the over-arching statements suggest a broad spectrum, that, while inspecific, is something I can relate too. Whether it is because I too am a poet, I am unsure, but the use of cliche here is rather decent, leaving me conflicted as to its role in some forms of poetry.

A few new linebreaks could be added here, and as a technical qualm, you misuse a couple semi-colons, but the general sentiment here is effective, and voiced well. I do enjoy the poem, I just suppose a few line break changes, more clarity and perhaps a few better examples of figurative language could greatly elevate this already fine work. Thank you for sharing.

[everyadventure]

or find some other means of inspiration to continue writing
That's what I was suggesting. Find some other source of inspiration...

[hillwalker]

I find the idea of a poet reliving his past, pondering the transient nature of his inspiration and perhaps bemoaning his lost art an interesting one.

But I found the first verse rather self-pitying - too specific (why 64 rather than 63 or 65 ? apart from the rhyme of course). It also tends to ramble - taking 16 lines to say what could be said in 5 -

When he turns sixty-four
and he realizes that the unicorn
is not going to come out of the forest
and feed from his hand anymore...
...what should he do?

If this is indeed an autobiographical exploration then perhaps you need to remove yourself from the equation to make it more accessible to the general reader. It has immense potential but has become rather blurred by the writer's own, ink-stained fingerprints.

H

[Jassy Melson]

Thank you all for reading my prose poem and commenting

[everyadventure]

I'd have to disagree with Hillwalker (gasp!!!) on this one. I suspect it comes down to personal preference; I love that you've made this poem so intimate with these details. It's endearing, and it makes the reader more sympathetic to the narrator.

[hillwalker]

I'd have to disagree with Hillwalker (gasp!!!) on this one.

That's a nasty cold you've got by the sound of it, ea. But honestly - I dunna bite.

H

[Jassy Melson]

For some reason which I really cannot fathom, this prose poem of mine has evoked a number of responses--ten at last count. All I can say is that I wasn't tryiing to write a poem; I wasn't trying to convey a message; I definitely wasn't preaching; and I wasn't trying to be profound. I was simply expressing my feeling upon reaching age sixty-four and realizing that the muse was gone--never to return.

[Jack of Hearts]

Self pity is an ugly trait in a poem. Maybe you can't turn inspiration on at will. This reader is begining to understand that being an artist is less about producing 'masterpieces' and more about braving one's own creative process, fruitful or no, and personal discovery through the creative act.

If you haven't got the juice to do at least that, maybe it's time to take your boots off.






J

[Jassy Melson]

Why do I feel that you've just insulted me.
There is no self-pity in the prose poem I composed

[Jack of Hearts]

To make clear, there's no contempt for the person who wrote this poem, who this reader is certain is a person who deserves fundamental respect the same as everyone else in that manner, but rather for the poem itself (in this reader's interpretation).








J

[jajdude]

Self pity is an ugly trait in a poem.

J

Good statement. It's an ugly trait period, though known to affect everybody, yet best kept to oneself. Chicks don't dig it.

I will say, however, if it belongs anywhere, where else but a poem, which is allowed to capture anything we experience.

Not saying Jassy was indulging in it though.

[hallaig]

Writing a poem about the fact you can't write poems any more. A long and honourable tradition there.

[Jassy Melson]

Thank you for your opinioins and comments

[tailor STATELY]

No muse ? Prolly on sabbatical; happens.

If I Get Blocked

One word -
an image will inspire
an haiku will suffice
a quatrain even nicer
read mo better
poet's poems
and their lovely
la dee dahs
indulge and
bait your ego
always thinking
I can do mo better !

('course I'm shy of that rarefied aire of 64)

Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY

[Jassy Melson]

Thank you for your opinion.

[AuntShecky]

Gosh, this could be the biography of yours fooly!

In my opinion, this piece of verse is quite good, so maybe
the Muse may still be hanging round.

[Jassy Melson]

Aunt Shecky, I composed poetry for more than forty years; and in most of that time--up until a few years ago-- the muse was here; I was inspired. When the muse leaves a poet, it is permanent--it is not temporary; and it is a tragedy, but it's only a tragedy for the poet, it's not a tragedy for anyone else. And sooner or later, the poet will realize that the muse is gone--never to return. In the forty or so years that I composed poetry, self-pity was anathema to me. None of the poetry I composed contained the least bit of self-pity--even the most recent prose poem which started this whole thing: What Should a Poet Do? contained no self-pity. When someone "accuses" me of expressing self-pity in poetry or prose-poems which I compose--which has happened with What Should a Poet Do? I feel insulted, because I know that it's not true.

I composed a prose poem entitled What Should a Poet Do? It was essentially about the muse leaving a poet, and what should a poet do when or she realizes that the muse is gone never to return. Some chose to belittle the prose poem--and my feeling; one was so inspired by it, he composed a satiric ditty about it. A few chose to insult me personally.

This is why I rarely post on the poetry forum. Because I realize that there are some whose whole existance seems to revolve around the Poetry Forum. It's almost as if they're waiting to pounce on something they disagree with, or that they can compose some satiric or sarcastic doggerel about. It's really sad.

[Delta40]

I haven't followed the posted comments Jassy. I love the first verse. You build up the readers imagination to smash it heartlessly the rest of the way and achieve your goal. It is heartbreaking, puzzling, a man at a loose end and I did not detect any self pity.

[Jassy Melson]

Thank you for reading my prose poem and for commenting

[Haunted]

There are muses outside of poetry. Why don't you take up dancing?

[Jassy Melson]

Thank you for your suggestion