A few scraps of thoughts and feelings, a set of words and emotions were laid out before me like random pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. The lines I had written down had a pulse, a throbbing, a life, but it was not flowing yet. I tried to gather them into shape - my task was merely to find and join the pieces of the puzzle. There was no doubt that there was poetry within them, it was up to me to mould them gently with my hands and help them attain that form.
Then it struck me that... It was there, waiting to be discovered. I was not a creator, I was a mere adventurer who chanced upon the signs of a beautiful treasure.
How beautiful it is, when we are able to bring a poem to existence, how magical it seems when we extract it from the depths it was concealed in, how fulfilling it is when the finished poem glows in its final polished state!
Then it struck me that... It was there, waiting to be discovered. I was not a creator, I was a mere adventurer who chanced upon the signs of a beautiful treasure.
The response by @BeYess on Twitter expanded the vague idea.
"Clear unwanted portions and discover the sculpture..."
Chip off unwanted words and extract the poem within. How true!
How beautiful it is, when we are able to bring a poem to existence, how magical it seems when we extract it from the depths it was concealed in, how fulfilling it is when the finished poem glows in its final polished state!
No doubt about it...i never thought of myself as a poet yet sometimes emotions came gushing out and lo,a poem emerged.
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