that strange scent of summer comes,
and it is not the whirr of cooling fans,
it is not the crackle of keystrokes,
and it is not the stale shadows on the wall
it is not a brightened picture
from across the blue expanse,
and it is not built of wood or stone,
or the lure of worldly trance
and it is not a longing for more -
for those left wanting have let it waste.
and it is not the eyes that yearn for youth
sunk deeply in the aging face
it is a sound intoned in desperation,
through every winter past
that awakes the world from hibernation,
crying "Here we are, at last!"
it is the smell of warm skin,
bathing in the brilliant light,
and the warm breath upon my neck,
Why write a poem? What does it mean to say that a poem is "good" or "bad"? Or is it supposed to spark some image or experience within you, and is thus unconcerned with "good" or "bad"? Or is the function of poetry to relate to people without overtly stating the plain facts?
This is what the above poem would read like if I said what I was really thinking:
I got that feeling of summer and realised that I'm sitting in my room in the dark at my computer. It's going to be all string tops and cleavage soon and if I don't get my fat ass off the computer, I'll be sitting inside looking out at the world for the next three months.
The truth is that whenever I'm writing poetry, prose or music, all I can think about is the praise I'll get for it, with a few exceptional cases of inspiration. I'm hoping that I can read it at some open mic night and put to shame all of those people I went to school with who stand up there every week. My ego is fully immersed in it and it reflects through the work. What goes through your head when you write? How can I be inspired? And, if I have just described you, then is the whole thing a crock?