I’ve been doing a lot of suffering lately
though I often hear it said
that’s what I say:
that’s the life for me;
the artists way.
like dying sunlight rays
over the mountains;
like the break of day
which almost splits itself apart with yearning,
but what’s sweeter than that
when you bleed
into the page
and make it sing?
I’ve been exploring the idea of the tortured artist this week, with a guest post over at ‘The Flippant, Comic, and Serious’ on this very subject. I think we need to feel deeply in order to create poetry (or any other type of writing) that has meaning. As Hemmingway said:
“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”
I don’t believe that means a life of incessant suffering, however. We all have moments when we suffer, and we can learn from that and use it to give depth to our art. We can also use it to contrast against the lighter side of life, when we can revel in the good times and enjoy the simple joy of being.
As for the word ‘Shouldawouldacoulda,’ I have Beverly Knight to thank for that…