Wednesday, August 17, 2016

Language of Need of Language

The book I carry along right now is Ralph Galan's Discernments. I try to read it whenever I'm idle, as I realize that I should not be wasting my time. Galan is an awesome poet, and I admire his poetics, so I thought I'd be learning a lot of things from this book, which is actually a compilation of his literary essays and reviews. Although it doesn't contain any of his verses, I am realizing a lot of things about my poetry endeavor. And that, of course, is a good thing.
oh! amsuch a noob!

As what I mentioned, I began blogging again because I want to practice my language. Poetry is a high form of art and it requires mastery of the language, so I need to practice my writing and way of thinking in the language, so that I'd gain experience on it. And when I have enough experience, that's when I'd be able to play with words more comfortable and naturally.
What's remarkable about Galan's literary essays is that they remain poetic, as if each aliteration printed in each sentence came natural from his head. His language is not pedantic. It actually is leaning more on colloquial, but more precise with his vast vocabulary. I realized that I am still very far from this wordsmith. I often read phrases in the book that I would never imagine myself thinking of. The various words used (and how they are used) are able to capture the nuances in the thoughts and ideas conveyed in the text.
so. damn. good. hu. hu. hu.
Early yesterday, right after arriving home, I thought of writing poetry. Perhaps I was hyped because I composed a short poem on the bus. I posted the poem on Facebook, together with a view of the window. I received a Like from my college literary mentor, and I felt validated. One of the reasons why I want to succeed is her. I just want to make her proud. I guess I'm on the right track, but I was just moving so slow.
Getting. There. Soon.
And so I spent countless minutes looking at the whiteness of emptiness in the blank document on my laptop. I thought of composing a palindrome poem. I actually thought it was my genius idea at the moment, but Googling it, my illusions were shattered pretty early. A lot of poets are already attempting to write them. Unfazed, I continued and stared at the blank white, typing from time to time.
Deja vu
I never knew it was that difficult, really. As you start your poem, you should already know that you are ending it as well. And that feels different. For a change, you already know where something is going. You have the sense of control over the ending, but you actually don't. Because controlling the ending would compromise the beginning of the poem. Today, I'll continue with my attempts. I hope my languag was improved a bit, even after just 24 hours.
Lez du diz!

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