A Creative Rope: A Poem of Dedication to All Who Expand Their Creative Minds

Often, I like to think about others who may have been like me in history, and even people who may know exactly my way of thinking today; wondering if there is an invisible rope that has tied us all together from history on up into the present day and continuing. I believe so, and I believe when we meet these others, it is such a gift, because people of creative form tend to be loners at one time or the other throughout their lives until they find more individuals with relatable ties to them. They can be right under our noses, but still hard to find. My thoughts then find a way to visit all of you from past and present, and hopefully, just maybe, I will be introduced myself into the future by an up and coming creative. It may be only when I’m gone like an Edgar Allan Poe, Sylvia Plath, and Emily Dickinson; because their attributes that they gifted the world with were unexplored in a real way until death, and I find myself wondering whether that will also be my fate.

However, I think I will continue to rely on this rope that ties us together from a time all the way back to the great philosophers Socrates and Plato. Along with their brilliant writings and philosophies, they carried us along through all these other writers I mentioned, which had a unique way to express life as they saw it, and they did this through simply sharing their emotions through their artistic craft. Other types of artists as well; painters such as, Vincent Van Gogh and Claude Monet - mentioning some that we all have learned about. Then there are singers who carry an emotional value over money and fame and sing their songs like it is a must to keep freedom as well as teaching a sincerity that seems to be as equally important to them. John Lennon, of course, is my favorite besides other inspirations like Ray Charles, who could not see, but had a voice and a vision that he detailed through his music. And Bob Dylan, who never has had a melodic tone, but had a message that he told through his brilliant lyrics.

Today, bands like Coldplay, Radiohead, and Beck serve as emotional inspirations to us all. They capture within us a feeling of a common humanity. A feeling we all gravitate to. There are so many of us, past and present, who to me, were and are great divides to the normal creative types that just create for wealth and popularity. It’s true, some that I have mentioned have made it to present day fame. Nevertheless, there will always be some that are hidden jewels who will later shine in history, but we all fit in this same creative club somehow. The ones I want to showcase here, and the ones I relate to, have made their way through to accomplish their dreams within their personal struggles and virtues, and when I think about them, I feel a part of that artistic connection, even if the art-form of these creatives is not like my own.

This poem is a way for me to call out and appreciate all of us in this unique club, whatever the creative path we have chosen, that more times than not, does not get a recognition that it so deserves. Thank you to all the creative types, which paved the way without giving up on their desire to be heard, even if some of them were only recognized after death did they part.

In my poem, I talk about breaking out of our cocoons when we create. Butterflies are known for their symbolism of transformation, which I believe we creatives do through our lives. We are born a lonely caterpillar who no one understands the purpose of, then one day we transform and break out of our barrier with courage and determination to live our lives with hope. Which "hope" is also a symbol of the butterfly. In the end the butterfly teaches that we must spread our wings and follow our dreams

People who harbor individual

thoughts every single day

throughout their lives have a

bold but tender outlook like no other.

They become poetry. They

become fated to a land that

cannot be reached by the

commons.

Yes, they become original in

everything they do, even when

it is normal - it is thought of and

put forth in a unique way.

They derive from a spring inside

themselves that was hidden behind

a cornucopia forest, and finally

discovered by their hope.

They then want to share, care, and

find ways never to go back to their

own disparity. And it begins to

consume, yet feels better than loneliness.

Although, they indeed continue

to feel isolated, they eventually

find familiar faces, a belonging

that they could never find if still

stuck in their cocoons.

It becomes important to keep

going after they find a bravery

to spread their colorful wings.

Dust flies off. The gray becomes

rainbow glory, and they thank

whatever God that may be out

there that this ability has come

upon them to find some kind

of freedom before a death of

nothing special.

They are….

No…

we are…. creative.

We are writers, painters, singers,

sculptors…

We are… storytellers in a world full

robotic rhetoric and style...

We are… artists!