Why I Write Poem by Lauren Harper

Why I Write



One cannot understand art
Unless they savor it with their mind like it is chocolate melting on their tongue
Unless they connect their fears and beliefs to that of the piece like a spider's web.
You see I desire to write the perfect sentences.
I long to intertwine a masterpiece made of letters, punctuation marks, my worst nightmares and my wildest dreams.
I would write my hands raw if I dared use pen and paper.
It is rather difficult to write when your mind moves immensely faster than your hands dare try.
At least not in a way to which the form could ever be legible.
Not to mention how many trees would owe their passing to me.
The satisfaction fueling the smile on your face when a piece is finished just right.
*clears throat* updated. When a piece is updated perfectly.
If you know anything about a poet, the word conclusion isn't in their vocabulary.
The way the stanzas roll off your tongue demanding to be heard by ears other than your own.
Gradually you learn to write out of happiness rather than anger and of sadness.
Branching out is how you see it.
Like that of the arms of trees stretching out to the sun.
Just like the transfer of pen and paper to google docs.
You learn to grow and adopt new techniques.
although you doubt you'll ever try writing in iambic pentameter.
Oh my because who has enough time for that?
Sometimes you find yourself in a drought of connections.
Your fingertips itch at the thought to write.
But the letters that find themselves wanting to be written feel all too familiar.
Oh right I said something to that effect in that other poem.
Speaking off I must confess I did have to search the difference between affect and effect.
Affect is what happens basically before the "big change" to effect.
Effect is the result
Just incase you wondering.
So here's to Emily Dickinson who wrote on the backs of letters because she feared to venture out of her home.
To Shakespeare who created words, wrote in iambic pentameter and did it all without spell check.
To Langston Hughes a social activist who wrote novels, poetry and plays.
I soak up your words and marvel at your ideas.
I could never measure myself to those who are being read in classes today.
But some day I hope I somehow to weasel my way into the lives of those that appreciate art.
Not that I'll ever be Edgar Allen poe, Emily Dickinson, shakespeare or Langston Hughes but some day I'll be something that you read.
I know the possibilities are slim to none.
Anyone can pay their way into publishing.
But it is few who are actually remembered.

Friday, March 25, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: poetry,writing
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