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Observing Angst of a Certain Type: Writing Out a Lonely View

Missy is a unique writer who enjoys inviting her readers into her thoughts through her poetry and other topics of discussion.  

The Difference in How Creativity and Inspiration Come Alive for Me as a Poet

I have learned that most poets are unique. They write a poem in their own special way. It may be categorized in a similar genre as others. However, I believe you can always find some etiquette or style significantly distinct in every poet's persuasion.


I tend to venture towards sad and dark places, which may not be entirely odd unless you know how I get there - my unusual way of being inspired. I do feel my poems can derive from an everyday experience. Moreover, inspiration is also from a spring inside the poet that is different than the rest. A happening that may be pretty simple and ordinary, but somehow I will find similarities to my own life that make it a little bit more interesting for me to create my poetry.


In explaining further, I wouldn't want people to think that I am a total weirdo, but I do feel emotions very intensely. I, at times, have thought this was my curse; other times, I have seen it as a blessing. Again, I see happy and sad - my poetry seems to be more morose than joyful when I write it out.



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More Explanation Into My Inspiration: The Questions I Had When Creating This Poem

This poem, strangely enough, came upon my brain's creative portion out of nowhere. It's kind of political, but not exactly. After observing one of those live political processes we are all subject to run across and watch on CNN or social media, I felt compelled to put this one together.


To explain further, a certain Senator caught my attention through these proceedings. In researching him, I have gotten even more enthralled in how he ticks as just a simple man in his day-to-day life outside of Washington and in his state capital. Mentioning who it is will not serve my purpose, as I always like to keep an air of mystery present when I write.


After observing this person, I often started finding questions that I wanted to be answered. Questions that I wondered if I had the opportunity to ask him would maybe put our thoughts in the same mindset. Of course, I am not the same as him in how we live life. I am not smart enough to land a position in the White House. Then again, I can't say that, considering who our sitting president was when I wrote this piece. Wouldn't you covfefe (a little hint)?


Furthering my thought into this poem, this was my direction as this poem took up residence in my mind. When that happens, all writers know that it must be written out.


I hope you enjoy this poetic whim in which I took myself on some time ago--four years ago to be exact. However, please interpret it in your way as well. After all, I think all we poets can agree that this is what poetry is all about. :)

Senator???

observing-angst-of-a-certain-type-writing-out-a-lonely-view

The Poet Talks to the Politician

You don’t know me, but I think of you; a life displayed in a political

view.


It’s not private; instead a public profile. Indeed, a fictitious guessing

game not worth a while.


Yet, I do wonder if you’re like me? Does nightfall bring insomniatic

sofa scenes...


out of the window staring into the night; a lonely glare of a few what

ifs or mights.


Oh, dear life of lonesome; life forever and atoned, never having felt

completely whole…


why must some as he and I, live in a constant sad pretend….

A LIE?!


Faces amaze with bright smiles outside, while hiding pain underneath their

guise.


It is confusion, isn’t it? I mean, in your own head, when you're ALONE

attempts to run off to distant lands.


A wandering in darkness that is forever present, even when the sun

sheds its light effervescent.


And then there is I, and you will never think of me; one whom is just

as deep into the night… into an awakened sleep.


But alack, we both wish for that perfect friend, to come upon and

share our beds.


And hark; the truth does set vain judgments; where they shall impair

a seemingly flawless pair’s very air of a completed exuberance...

© 2017 Missy Smith

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