Who is “qualified” to write poetry ? What is good, meaningful, relevant, authentic poetry ?
I have no answer.
I only know this:
Poetry is the language of pain and of love. The Muse of poetry chooses when to speak. For me, there were years – many years ago – when she was active, when she spoke to me. And then, she was gone; silence. What I produced in those years, was it any good ? I simply don’t know. It had meaning to me. But once written, it was gone. And then the Muse herself went to sleep, hibernation perhaps.
Now, decades later, she has begun to nudge me. Why ? To this query, I know the answer. It will be evident if you read these works.
I have no inclination to publish name or contact information; if I were to do this, I could not post this material.
So why post at all, then ? This is a question with which I continue to struggle.
If this work, these words, this pain has any meaning, it must be shared. I am sure there are others who feel this. Who suffer this. So, for that reason, I publish here.
Does this make a difference ? If you read these and it does, please comment.
Persephanie, Penelope, I seek you still.
I am, and remain,
All Material on this Blog is Copyright Noman Teserak 2013
Fair Use is Certainly Acceptable