Overflow & CommitmentThere is an old proverb, legislator, which we poets
never tire of telling and which all laymen confirm, to the effect that when a poet takes his seat at the tripod of the Muse, he cannot control his thoughts. He’s like a fountain where the water is allowed to gush forth unchecked. –Plato, Laws IV. The truth is the muse is often fickle. She likes to be wooed. Sometimes she wants to be tickled, On other days, she is rude just to Start a quarrel that ends in a kiss. You scribble a line, but she Wants to hear it oral, recited with A twist of the tongue. Or she may Want it sung with full lungs, before She will bestow a laurel for your crown. If you try to force it, you will only Make her frown and bring yourself A world of woe. Courting her Requires daily discipline, attention To form, detail, and apprehensions. Then, the slow hard work accumulates Into the occasional grace of inspiration: The poem that seems to spring from Nowhere, fully-formed and articulate, An omnipotent storm of exaltation. And then it flows like a fountain- And you are drenched in words You composed but don’t know how You did it. But the muse knows Where water goes—it’s all about Commitment. |
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