Poetry as Lust...

..continuation

How to explain, then, the attraction, the true lust we experience for words, the manipulation of language, the irresistible, need to touch it, read it, write it, forge, bend, breathe it?
I have been living this lusty relationship with  poetry for more than 15 years and had never explored the reasons.

Very often you can't  rationalize why you fall in love with someone. Less with poetry. Realistically, you see the flaws, the deficiencies ( especially in what you write), but simply can't help it.
In the first period it is frenzy, the kamasutra of poetry: the research for refined kissing rhymes in a sonnet; the contortions of the ghazal, the free fall headlong of short lines without punctuation, couplets and triplets, villanelle and ode. Nothing is left unexperienced, very often with awful results but, heck, how can you deny anything to  such a passionate lover?

With time, the structure of the relationship gets  clearer definitions; the passion is still present and strong, but you find some "positions" more suitable and adopt them. What matters is the daily dose of words, the scribbling of lines on a notepad, an image written down on  a napkin at the restaurant, the early rise  because during sleep a lusty caress stirred your brain.

Oh, I forgot to name that after the kamasutra phase, there comes another, not less frantic: the sending out phase. The sending out at first indiscriminate: to every review and everywhere; then more accurate, selective and sensible, then..I'll send tomorrow and tomorrow and...

Even though the high pitched moments start to deflate a bit, you still experience, daily, this mental bond and the need.
You'll wonder whether there is any critical attitude toward the offsprings of this lust. Yes, very critical; you are aware that in 15 years you have accumulated a lot of crap and some nice moments. Criticism doesn't lessen the love, though.
You'll notice how repetitive your lover's images are, how boring its snoring consonants can be. Yet, when you open your eyes, pen or keyboard yield to its alluring call.

This went on, as said above, for more than 15 years; the deflating of lustful lust stated deviously: not a daily pen-paper or keyboard touch every day; images discarded as plain; lines that dragged, stumbled and crashed in the wastepaper basket, or simply clicking: Delete. No Save As; No Save at all. I looked at the poetry's face and saw it gray and tired.When I touched it, it shrank away.

What can one do when the lover of a lifetime erects a barrier of IF, BUT, MAYBE, LATER, NO.
Though comforted by past lovers ( drawing and digital painting) and cheered up by a new friend: photography, I felt betrayed, missed the words, kept watching  images and tried to translate them and their impact into poetry. At times this now elusive lover came back for one day or some hours and the elation was the same as in the past, but brief, too brief.
I needed daily elation, the one I was used to.

After  long months of wavering, my lover is back. It doesn't promise anything: neither masterpieces nor memorable lines ( to be honest it never did); just a long, lustful, lasting embrace.
I have concluded that paper and pens ( if insisted upon, keyboard, too) can produce Phenylethylamine

Comments

[Ranger]

Very interesting analogy, Paula. So glad your lover is back. ... um... can I watch ;-)

[Paula]

of course, Ranger. Aren't we all poets and poetry readers, voyeurs? ;-)

[shisa]

Now this is brilliant...Never thought of it quite like that :)
Thank you-- poetry in the stages of a love affair!

[shisa]

but phenylethylamine? What rhymes with that? and it needs a line all to itself!
Gimme a--linebrak :)

[Carol]

Good article, Paula! I too have experienced "the early rise" and been "comforted by [the other arts, the] past lovers."

This is poetry: your "need to touch it, read it, write it, forge, bend, breathe it." Great stuff!

Carol

[Paula]

Shi, maybe : adamantine . LOL. Thank you

Carol, glad you enjoyed. Thank you.

[Rob]

Good stuff, Paula.

What about the tantric phase?
Symptoms include staring at a blank screen or sheet of paper for hours on end. Then you write a single line and feel you've done a good night's work.
That's roughly where I'm at.

[Paula]

LOL, yes, Rob, it's the scariest phase, but will pass. Believe me.