Second Nature Isn't My Nature
I practice and practice
To make everything perfect
But imperfection,
Loose, natural
Is more alive
Perfectionism
Is out of fear
Practice, rigid, habit,
Robotic
Second nature, maybe
But out of fear
Desire for perfection
Is fear of imperfection
Fear of myself
Fear of my nature
Fear of failure,
Of making mistakes
Fear of what 'they'll'
Think of me
Sigh...
Just plain fear
April 21, 2008
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| Great comment, thanks for that. Yea I did mean in mostly all areas of my life... except the writing. Whatever comes out comes out. Its the only area where I allow myself the freedom to say and do whatever I want, no matter how others may react. |
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Comment by: alcarty Online- 2008-04-21 16:53
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| Loosen up, George, you'll get an ulcer! I think you must be referring to all phases of your life, although I hope not. On the job, some of your striving for perfection may be justified, but don't allow that boundary-tightening and rigidity to choke your writing. The soul of the poet must be loose, free, searching, always trying new and easy-going descriptive ways to relate what your poet-eye sees. The job of the poet is to smooth the sharp corners of life so fearful readers may walk the woods and hills and see, through your eyes, the soothing colors and hear the soughing whisper of a falling leaf. Your poem shows you can handle the medium; now you need to write the hell out of everything! Scratch down the words, feverishly, frantically, just get them down! Then, unfortunately, comes the re-write. Have at it. By the way, good piece. |
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