Poetry in making

I will write about my daily routine in the next blog...but right now I need a dose of writing. Since spontaneous writing is not happening, I have to go with directed writing which may not be such a bad idea. I mean one can argue that strips the natural element from one's writing, but I feel originality can still be present. And most importantly it provides that much needed kickstart. So here goes...
I stumbled into this great site: http://www.twc.org/forums/hnguyen_exercise64.html
where there is a poetry exercise bootcamp going on...and I decided to take advantage of it.
My effort for the suggested topic: " In tranced fixation dreaming upon object before you."
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Object : Dove Moisturizer

A voluptuos lady with broad shoulders
Angelic in its white fluidy body.

A swish of blue elegance 'round her neck
Italics enhancing her charm effortlessly.

The seal of a golden dove on its breast
And a yellow sash around her waist.

Apricot and smoothness oil for your body
For all of your Twenty-four hours, she claims.

I will caress your body to perfection and leave your skin rich
For the Twenty-four hours I will stay with you
(-Tracy)
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Hmm....Not a masterpiece but not a gift from hell either I think.

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To write or not

They come in all, they come at once
words, syllables, sentences and phrases.
They come in random, they come in order.
They bump into one another in the grey labyrinth
creating harmony and creating chaos.
They exist in abundance and they exist in hiding
expressions, ideas, thoughts and inspirations.
They form a pattern and they break rules.
They long to be cherished and they become ethereal.
They fill up the cells in my brain with plasma imagination
And they fill up my mind with transcending ideas.
They are mine to remember, decorate and express.
They are the craft I am merely the craftsman.
Their source is the unknown hollow of the universe
And sometimes the best of them are lost in oblivion.
They are all destined to be free and to belong.
I am but the verhicle that will lead them to their destinites:
Those inifinite lassos of words, syllables, phrases and sentences.

(-Tracy)

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Now see that's what I meant. Once you get in the mood, you can write spontaneously.That's how the second poem was conceived. Word begets word, ideas begets ideas: that is the mantra of writers and poets.
The best thing about poetry is its non-conformity. It is independent, it is not limited by strictures, it is not handicaaped by grammar, it is free-flowing, eccentric, random and fiercely inspirational even in its simplest form. But it is also the nature of poetry that not everybody can conceive them.
The second best thing about poetry is that it is relative. The same poem can have different meaning for every other person who reads it. So, in technicality there is no right or wrong in poetry. It is either love it or hate it but there is no deying it.
I plan on reading up some poems of Neruda, Lorca and the likes for inspiration.
See now this little writing assignment has left me slightly exhausted but very fulfilled. Okay, so I didnt exactly create history with those poems but they sure did enhance my reservoir of all things creative that floats around in mybrain. Yikes, just had a mental image of that !!!
OK so :Back to happy thoughts.....try to retain this happy feeling....breathe....
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Here's a line of song that had been playing in my mind all day:

I turn to water and I turn to ice
But when you hold me close, I regain my vice.


PS: All literary works published in my blog are copyrighted (c).