Let’s get one thing clear.
You don’t want to read this. It will be terrible. It’s poetry. Specifically, it’s the first piece of poetry I’ve written in over five years. I wrote it a couple of months ago whilst… well… rather drunk would be an understatement. I caught a bus home from a heavy night on the town. It was stupid late. Then I went for a walk in a nearby park & this just sort of started writing itself in my head. After a while I wandered back home and drunkenly scribbled it down. It was a few weeks before I even looked at it.
Since then I’ve been thinking more and more about poetry. Remembering a few I studied back in a high school and a few I read after that. In school I never got poetry. Hell, I didn’t even get short stories. I had no appreciation for the concise or the sublime. It was novels all the way. Preferably intellectually heavy and draining ones. Think Neal Stephenson.
Anyway, I’m getting off topic. Since I wrote this poem, I’ve been thinking a lot more about poetry. I think I’d like to study it a bit. So, I’m going to start reading some & maybe post a few notes about some of them here. If I get especially brave (and/or drunk again), I might even have a go at writing a few more myself.
Anyway, here’s my poem. It’s terrible. Don’t read it.
I walked to the park,
through moonlight and lamplight.
And there I laid on the sweet, soft grass
And gazed upon the stars.
And I dreamt of music
And of poetry without words or form
With neither rhyme nor rhythm.
I dreamt of friends both old and absent
Of loves lost and never held.
And as I gazed upon the stars,
As I watched them slowly form,
From nothingness and void,
I came to know great peace.
I listened to the crickets chirp
And watched the shadows of the night-time birds.
And in amongst it all,
Was such tranquillity,
As I had never before known.
On a moonless night,
In a park of ill repute,
To see such beauty,
To know such peace,
Is to be delivered unto awe.
For we are so tiny
And the universe so big
That to feel content,
To know peace,
And the love of a friend
Is to know all that need be known.
I dreamt of music
And of poetry with neither word nor form.
I watched the stars from nothingness form,
I dreamt of friends both old and gone.
And I knew true peace,
And all was well.