They say that poetry is a dying art and yet within me it is a source of all life.
As many of you know I am planning to publish a book of poetry in the, fingers-crossed, near future. Naturally I have been analyzing the demographics of my readers, at least those readers who have expressed genuine interest in my work. At my main site Mindlovemisery I have a responsive audience for which I am immensely grateful. When I submit poems to other sites (not specific to poetry) I get crickets with the occasional “I don’t understand so I can’t comment.” It makes sense that people who write poetry are the primary consumers of poetry books but I am still saddened that so few non-writers read poetry. As far as writer’s go I suppose I am rather abstract in presentation, a consequence perhaps of my wavering consciousness. A lot of people comment that I am ghost-like, ethereal, not of this world. You can apparently spend so much time lost in daydreams that you become, yourself, totally implausible. I am okay with the fact that I am not mainstream but I must still consider the possibility that my poetry lacks clarity and relatability. Can I create poems that envelop the soul? How do I harness my metaphors?
My WordPress readership is pretty diverse, all things considered, but can my poems be appreciated without a translator? Personally I love to hear the various interpretations of my work, that each person walks away holding a piece of themselves. That said I don’t want my poems to be so self-indulgent and convoluted that nothing whatsoever can be extracted from them. If I passed my poems out on the tram how many people would save them?