We Seek Our Kind

why poets seek other poets

We Seek Our Kind

for J

I read your words, friend, and truly know,
   from the resonance of something interior and the cadence
of images that you understand what it means to live
   with the fear of the dark always under your skin:
that one day, despair may corner you at your own
   personal Appomatox. Surrender- divided self- to madness.
 
Cynics- those who misconstrue value as dollars and sense-
    tell us to not read too much into another’s work,
things are not always what they seem. You cannot judge sincerity.
   Oh really? I wonder, because it was so easy with you
to slip into your mind, and take that whirlwind penny tour

with you, through redemption and hope and dancing on the wind
   but also into the quiescent place where your sensitive heart
seems to possibly never have quite healed from the wounds
  an unjust world inflicted upon you and yours. I teeter on the brink-
so easy to fall. Your words- like windows inside that even eyes can hide.

To the cynics I proclaim, loudly, in thunderous voice:
  You obviously know not the value of catharsis, the necessity
To document what you see even as you wish you could walk away
   shield your vision, or otherwise disappear from the poetry of life.
We know- we seek our kind- because, from early age, we heard,

“I just do not get what you mean” and “ Why can’t you speak clearly?”
      and we hold the language of the universe in our hearts, but our mates
say, “so what?” when we describe the sunset over the mountain in perfection,
   or spend days contemplating coyote howls in the wilderness, or
 document in written flesh the pain of losing a child, our Selves the thing we lost

precariously along the way, seeking what everyone seeks:
   simply to understand, and be understood, for what good is the language
of the heart if there is none to share it? An audience is great, but
   when all is said and done, at the end of the night, the bed is cold
with a partner who cannot reach inside and feel your soul.

We find each other to warm us on those nights- it’s only the most natural,
   logical, and for me, easiest, thing in the world to do; to reach out
and offer what’s inside to one  like you- who can accept this gift,
    and give it back to me in another form, altered in fascinating ways
by its stay within your creative cortex and neuronal input.
  That is why we seek our kind- for no other reason than to simply

feel some of that humanity slip under our skin when all else
   is madness, and the world spins out of control. I could very easily
I think fall completely for one such as you. You just do understand.

  and I do not fear the unspoken truth- that the deeper one delves

into darkness of words, the closer to the heart one must be to living

  the Hell, and transcribing a real vision, not one imagined by eyes that

 

have not seen. For that understanding- I could risk the fact you may

              indeed be drawing your sketches from real life.

                      Let the cynics enter at their own risk.


 

Author's Note

I started pondering why it is so easy for poets to fall for other poets... even with the danger that their gifts of insight often come with a very heavy price on the spirit and sanity, and sometimes the world is not what it seems.

Reviews

[cest la vie]

Damn girl,
(oops repeated Jamie below on openers) How did you manage to encapsulate the poets quest so eloquently. I do not consider myself a poet, merely a thought scribbler. Yet it seems we (poets, authors, ink spillers) have reached that interior place of emotion some others either are afraid to enter or can't find the door. Like attracts like.. So insanity, sanity, no-man's land who's to say why and how. Just we do. This is absolutely a pivotal piece for me. So thought provoking, written with depth, questions to ponder. I love a write that makes me take another look. This is one such write.

[Marie Anzalone]

you are another one, dear Lynne, that I miss so very much. Your words always brought such warmth and light into dark places. Remember when me and you and Lonestar and Rainman planned a cross-country trip that fell apart at the last minute? How often have I imagined in my mind that we took it, anyway. That LS found peace, that RM remembered how to laugh and let go. That you and I just snuck away for ice cream, because, well, boys are just plain bizarre. I need someone dark enough to get me, still... but also in love with life enough to be willing to live it with me. I seemed to have missed that part, before. But... you knew that, because you tried to rescue as many as I did. Lord, it hurts to recall some things. Part of me will always walk that beach in Maine with the three of you, wondering, "what if...?"

[The Rock And Roll Cowbo..]

I think why poets often fall for one another is one the artistic connection and the deep understanding we have of one another brings us closer then we so often bare our souls that it is easy to fall for someone who touches your soul with their work. Your poem is deep and insightful.

[bob, small b. aka invs]

odd. this is the second thing i've read today that talks about the community of poets. i've always thought of us as solitary souls, looking inward rather than outward for approval. but if that were the case, what am i doing here seeking like-minded friends and rolling in other people's words like a cat in catnip? so maybe i have to revise my viewpoint.
as far as why poets so easily fall for other poets, i don't know if that's the case. in my own case, i simply fall in love easily, be they poet or not. this can be disconcerting to my wife, but it works out. i know to love from a safe distance. if someone opens their heart to me, i will take it and offer my own in return. so in my case at least, i fall for those i come in contact with. if i associate with poets, they will be the objects or my affection. i think maybe the only advantage poets may have is that emotions are generally not hidden. there are no layers of defenses to break down before getting to know the 'real' person. but that is not always the case. i've found poets can be just as deceptive and manipulating as the general population. i think that's just a little more rare in that it requires a skill with words.
ok. i'm rambling. sorry. well, in case you can't tell, i found this thought provoking and very well written as always.

[bluessadmood]

Oh this is so good ,I wonder how I missed this writing..its so beautiful..
Why we seek our kind,read your words and from the resonance of something interior
and the cadence of images you understand everything,its easy with you to slip into any mind
through to quiescent places where hearts seemed never healed from wounds
we held language of the universe in our heart,and whats it good if we could not share
and offer whats inside to someone like you,we seek our kind simply to feel some of humanity slip
under our skin..and the world spins out of control..
This is a fascinating write..I heard about the worldly language of poetry of poets ,people
who easily understand each other so well..I just loved this writing truly a masterpiece
lovely write..

[An owl on the moon]

This was so beautifully spoken, moving, and powerful for me to read. I know this feeling, and your words help me understand it so much better. Thank you, my friend!

[cilla]

I've come back to this poem a number of times because my first instinct was that the writing process is a solitary task and we truly seek no one while working. But there is so much beyond this literal interpretation.

I think what we seek is that sub-conscious connection. When we read and find no need to interpret because the meaning and the sentiment is instantly known to us. It is a heart and soul connection that needs no explanation but invites us to come back time and again to read and savor. Who's to say whether it is madness or sanity? Who would dare define the walls of reality? We write because we are driven to write and read in search of re-assurance that the madness is not ours alone.

Truly a thoughtful and thought provoking poem.

[Patient Poet (Yos)]

precariously along the way, seeking what everyone seeks:
simply to understand, and be understood, for what good is the language
of the heart if there is none to share it? An audience is great, but
when all is said and done, at the end of the night, the bed is cold
with a partner who cannot reach inside and feel your soul.

OH how I loved that stanza, what a pure beauty , using the right words to just say what I feel

I loved that poem, it just talked to me so much, and I can easily related ... bit remind me my last poem ... and as I told you personally before... on diffrent time and place , who knows ,Yossi

[Clockwork]

Here there be monsters and vineyards. Poets or artists are cursed, or blessed with the gift of sight. At some point that sight has to join with another of a like soul. Other people just do not have the element of belief, and go through life cold, cynical and dead. For the sake sanity we find each other, and dare to go where others can not.

[Spit_and_Prayers]

True poets are not poets because they write poetry, but because they view the entierty of their lives in poetic harmony with a poetic heart. They view and describe the world through a lens of awe and emotion, tinting the cynics mundane world with the brilliant hues of inspiration. Yes, I believe you've captured this sentiment quite nicely. Your writing reads as if a scroll of ancient lore, eternal in its intelligence and saturated with wisdom.

[Rick Puetter]

Dear Marie,

Very thought provoking.

"I read your words, friend, and truly know,
from the resonance of something interior and the cadence
of images that you understand what it means to live"

So is it true that in some sense poets are "more alive" than others? Well certainly we are in love with the experience of feeling the world around us and letting it touch us until we near weep with emotion. So this is certainly alive in that we open the flood gates to the world and say: "I'm ready to take you in, world. Fill me with all you have." Others, it seems, almost hide from the world. I suppose it is a form of self protection. Now I use a form of self protection, too, but it is much more selective, weeding out those aspects of life that I know will devour me if I do not distance myself somewhat. But I enjoy the other aspects of life and welcome them in. And I'm aware enough of the aspects from which I distance myself to write about them and I certainly have no reservations about writing about them in their full force,

So this is a very interesting write. Greatly enjoyed and one of the most thought provoking pieces I have read in a while.

Best regards,

Rick