Day: November 17, 2014

Is poetry writing therapeutic?

Forms of poetry

Most people who read poetry have heard of Sylvia Plath.She was only 30 when she died but  is now a top poet of the 20th century… her  ambition was fulfilled.But if poetry writing is therapeutic as many people believe,why did it not help her?
I read an article about this  but am sad to  say i can’t find the reference.The author claimed that writing  structured poetry like sonnets is more likely to be therapeutic.Nowadays though,free verse and non structured  poetry is what is fashionable.Rhymes are not.Think of modern music cocmpared to Schubert or Haydn… you get the point.
Plath’s poetry was ,in a way,violent.She went to her depths but as she already had suffered a severe breakdown and  more recently  was deserted by her husband her depths were full of pain and anguish.And she had sole care of two little infants.Was it worth it?
So it you feel you want to write for therapy,try writing in  a traditional form.The structure contains the feelings better.

Sin tax

She said she never knew what syntax was until she met me.
Well,you do look worn out by your sins.
How do you know they were sins?
Well,you went to Confession twice a week all your life
That was my scruples.Sometimes I went twice a day…
It sounds like having an upset stomach.
In my case it was an upset soul.The soul emptied out and hung out on the Maginot line
Eventually I realized virtue is not attainable by Will Power alone
How is it attained… won’t power?
I knew you’d say that!
That!
Anyway to get back to syntax,it’s about structure.
Like council tax?
Words fail me
That’s good.I meant tax on a building
You seem very rude today
It’s not just today,I’m like this all the time.
I never noticed before
You only met me tonight
That’s almost true..now syntax is a very important topic.
Are we on a date or are you giving grammar lessons free?
No,I have Wasperger’s Syndrome.It’s as if I have Asperger’s but I sting too.
When do you sting
When people say sharp things to me.
Go on,you’re just needling me..
Truly I think you’ll love syntax and spelling rude words.
Well,we’ve had santax for years.Women pay VAT of 20 per cent on Tampax
It’s enough to make me throw up
No,throw out!Throw out the Coalition Government
Do you think Labour will remove Santax?
I don’t know but at least you’ll learn how to do percentages with them
I will?
Thank you so much.I am delighted to hear that.We are engaged.Here is a ring.
That’s beautiful.Was it your mother’s?
It still is my mother’s.
How can I wear it when she might see it?
I’ll tell her I liked hers so much I got one the same.She’s got poor vision so don’t worry.After the Wedding I’ll give it back
How mean.
I never knew you liked statistics.What about deviance?
Well,some I like,some I don’t… you catch my drift?
Well,babe,I’ll explain everything when we lie together.
That makes us sound like the government.
How come?
They all lie together.
Do they really.That explains a lot.Do they come together often?
I guess they have a rota.
You can’t come by will power.
That’s good.I want to come in a a horse and carriage.
It might frighten the horses.
I mean to our Wedding ceremony
Do you want four horses?
I am not that heavy!
No,I want you to have it all.
Suppose it’s not enough.
We’ll have to play it by ear..
Is that the organ?
Well,it’s a kind of organ.
A harmonium?
Maybe..I’ll ask the priest.
Does he play?
No,he just hears confessions and says Mass.
It’s a pity confession secret.He could write a long novel.
I daresay some have…. with pseudonyms.
I use a wordprocessor… should I get a pseudonym too?
You are crazy but I love you with all my heart.
And is it big?
Big enough for two.
Thank you,God.
I

Kiss your own foot and live forever

Only the rose

You know there’s that little place in the inner wrist

where it’s so soft and tender?

Where I need your touch;

Where I touch you

Wrist to wrist,no-one will notice;

But we notice,

I feel your pulse beating,

Or is it mine?

Take the rose,

Take the rose for your table.

And when you see it

Remember,

Remember everything

What we said,

What we never said but implied,

And only the rose will listen

As you sing your song

The rose will be there

In the heart’s garden

Dreaming,

Dreaming us back into being.

As we fade gently away

With evening time.

Thin skinned person

  • I’m a thin skinned person

    On a thin skinned, spinning earth.

    We’re living on the surface,

    Creating more financial worth.

    My skin is getting thinner

    I am feeling far too much.

    My skin is very fragile,

    I may need to have it patched.

    The earth is full of danger

    But we build on it like fools.

    As if my skin would thicken

    If I covered it in jewels.

    Inside the earth are fires

    Which rage like infernos.

    But we build nuclear reactors

    In places we don’t know.

    We build our human cities

    As if we are in charge.

    Banks,buildings,bridges growing,

    The built world has grown so large.

    The earth has a thinner skin on,

    But we don’t want to know.

    We just want our human cities

    To grow and grow and grow.

    My skin is getting thinner

    I feel life far too well.

    I don’t want to write poetry

    But I feel that I must tell.

    My skin is getting thinner

    I’m at one with Mother Earth

    She groans and labours loudly

    Like she is giving birth.

    Her skin is getting thinner

    Is it something she will shed?

    As adders are reborn

    When we think they are dead.

    But if we have too many cities

    The earth has no space to move.

    We’re like acne pustules dancing

    Without energy or love.

    The skin is getting thinner

    The world is going to split.

    And the energy released

    Is a fierce charge to transmit.

    We split the atom once

    And opened the abyss.

    But when we split the atom

    Who knew about all this?

    My skin is far too permeable

    I’m feeling too much pain.

    I want a thicker skin

    To survive on this terrain.

    The world groans and she labours

    And she destroys cities and trains.

    She’s giving birth to her own self

    As she struggles,works and strains.

    Her self is something fearsome,

    She is not civilised.

    When God spoke from the Burning Bush,

    We covered up our eyes.

    My skin is getting thinner

    I feel the heat again

    My skin is getting thinner

    I’m feeling too much pain.