My Own Methodology On Composing Poetry If I May
To make clear, I don’t use dictionary to write my poetry
I might open one from time to time to find one word to be the subject to write on
When I write, I don’t stop until I’m done, just like running a marathon
Have you ever seen a composer stopping in the middle of his symphony?
When I wrote an intense piece like “Depressed Soul, ” I looked at Van Gogh,
If I was moody, I composed a romantic piece such as “Don’ts and Do’s”,
I didn’t have a picture to look at, so I listened to Frederic Delarue’s
That is why you feel my words flowing like a song
Some time I reread my poem I needed the music again;
Otherwise, it sounds out of place
And that’s the reason you see me some time to include a reference of music for my readers.
I have used ancient language of the saints and angels
For my subjects are mostly about God and love in abstract religion or theology or mysticism.
Some time I use different words with the same meanings for emphasis
Some time I use noun in place of adjective and vice versa
Some time I invent adverbs, pronunciations, ie, I can do anything I want,
You can say that I am an ignorant poet or a magic master of inventions
While composing I invent strange words similarly to Van Gogh’s methodology in mixing intense colors I don’t care about rules rhyme or punctuation to make my point or words to flow
Or I can use punctu-a-t-i-o-n m-a-r-k-s just to have some fun, something different
As long all syllables, being synchronized, sound good to the ears I am simply happy
I just want to create an impressive painting in my reader’s head if I talk about lovers
When talking about spiritual stuff like my latest one, “Seek Him”, I use many theological terms
My best theological ones have to be “My Soul of Many Layers”, “Thoughts”, and few others
About the content, I look inwardly to see God and love,
Not just my moody, unpredictable, melancholy, in the cave
Some time I do in order to feel better or to inflict self-wound
Outwardly I observe human suffering, goodness, love, and nature, something uplifting
One will shoot blank if one dwells on himself, no one else, too much
I don’t chain-smoke or drink condensed coffee (whatever it is called) or get high to get inspired
I take a walk to compose in my head under sunlight, feel the breeze, pray, talk to kids,
I can compose on love by watching them throwing their shoes or digging for stones in a creek
I can get inspired imagining on a piece of coal or my soul as a fallen leaf.
Most of all, I want my poem to become a vivid painting with clarity, with intensity
Teach the world one thing or two about God and love, not tearing each other apart,
After all, aren’t we a bunch of ROMANTIC poetry lovers or I have joined the wrong group?
One last thing to remind myself all the times is if I want to be a prolific poet,
I can’t be so critical of myself for a true poet is supposed to be a free spirit
For if I put myself in a frame or worry so much to be blamed;
I would be dead and useless as an ancient dusty poem.
Don Nguyen's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (My Own Methodology On Composing Poetry If I May by Don Nguyen )
- My Home, Fatima Nusairat
- Strength is POWER!, Rosa. L Tenezaca
- With love at once, hasmukh amathalal
- Through A Puppet's Eyes (2), Dilantha Gunawardana
- Illusion perpetuates., Rm.Shanmugam Chettiar.
- Love inspired meetings inspire, Rm.Shanmugam Chettiar.
- Autumn, Deborah Kelley
- Fear of God?, Rm.Shanmugam Chettiar.
- Keep On Groovin', Lawrence S. Pertillar
- Benefits For Them Do Not Exist, Lawrence S. Pertillar
Poem of the Day
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Dreams, Langston Hughes
- Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- Nothing Gold Can Stay, Robert Frost
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(22 March 1941 -)