Freckled Cauliflower

I have decided to commit my poetry to the pages of my blog.
Over the next few days, weeks, months I will post a poem here and there.

To be honest, I have not written anything since those poetry-writing days in London circa 1997. And when I look at them now I feel a little awkward and also a little unsure of them. I ask myself whether I could have done better, whether I should have written more.

But that is the thing you see with me and things. I get wrapped up in them for a while and then it fizzles out as it were. Like an electric current that gets weaker and weaker until it eventually dies.

My writing has not died really - it comes out at odd moments and usually I stuff it back into wherever it was kept. In the back of my mind there is the nagging question of how many times can you refuse your inspiration until it goes forever?

It is similar with this blog. In the beginning I was thrilled with the idea.
But I realised it takes work, dedication and said inspiration to do this. (Don't get me wrong, I am not a complete moron. Honest. Even if I feel like one most of the time.)

Actually, I feel like I am a person with no goal.
No vision.
That is why I keep meandering. Often that is considered a good thing, isn't it. That saying about the journey being more important than the actual destination.

But to be completely clueless? Not being able to decide and stick to one thing? That is scary and it simply takes the wind out of me and my endeavours.

Is this what they call commitment issues? Yup.

I am rambling.

Let's get back to the writing.
It is very amateur. I never took a creative writing course in my life. I never discussed with others whether any of my work was any good. I have never exposed it to any criticism. I have always taken the easy way out.
Sure, there was the odd reading here and there. Open-mic session where anyone could get up on stage and flaunt their stuff as it were.
Some of my fellow writers were impressive, they drew you in. Some others were simply crippled by self-doubt and it showed. I myself was usually a mix of insecurity and arrogance.
If you wanted to you could have watched me decompose right in front of your eyes had you subjected me to your criticism. But in some part of my brain I sincerely believed I deserved to be heard. And more astonishingly, I also believed I deserved to be considered good. Talk about delusions of grandeur.
I am actually a bit ashamed of myself here, I must say.

But I often catch myself thinking - I can do THAT! Geez.
Well, maybe I could. But as mentioned before, THAT takes dedication, hard work. And I never seemed able to stick to anything. I wander here and there, nibble a bit from this, try a bit of that. But dedicating myself fully - naw, never gonna happen. In the crucial moment I pull back, even away. And I may even have muttered occasionally - Well, I didn't like it anyway.

HOW FICKLE, how superficial and self-absorbed can one person get?!

I am not trying to ingratiate myself here - Hm, spilling one's guts about how sad one actually is smacks a little of  "Please take pity and ...oh, look, here's what I prepared earlier. Now like me, like me. Like me, dammit!

I might just get away with it - because this blog is most likely to go unnoticed for all eternity.

No, I shall simply try - humbly - to send my words into the void. That is what this blog is for, after all.

So watch this space. Or not.