“The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!”
—Alexander Pope

There are few things that enact the rupture of the human mind. Poetry, among others, serves as one for me. I thought I’d write about this topic as I found some poems I wrote, one older, and two more recent.

When it comes to writing poetry (but not only, it’s just stronger there), the creative process is primarily emotional. It often starts with a feeling in my case. There’s a certain quality attached to that feeling, ravaging yet cathartic, that nurtures a state in which a word just feels right. The best way I can describe it is as a kind of synesthesia in which one can taste colors for instance.

I tried writing prose, but it never quite strikes the same chord. It’s a very, very different experience. I still don’t exclude the possibility of writing prose, especially hard science fiction. Maybe that could be part of my retirement plan. We’ll see.

Writing prose involves planning, organizing, and structuring ideas in a way that makes more sense. It’s a more linear and logical process than poetry, which often relies on imagery, metaphor, and symbolism to convey meaning.

A major factor in writing poetry in my case is finding the right words, but subconsciously shepherded. I tend to think of myself as being just a vessel, a bridge between my mind and the medium absorbing it. Music often helps and acts as a catalyst, particularly genres like post-rock (e.g., Blankenberge, Maybeshewill, KAUAN), (neo)classical (e.g., Corde Oblique, Arvo Pärt, Raphael Weinroth-Browne), and jazz (e.g., GoGo Penguin, Portico Quartet, NAUSYQA).

Poetry harbors a sense of genuineness, a rawness that cannot be found in other’s work. It’s a unique form of expression that allows the writer to explore their emotions and thoughts in a way that is both personal and universal. When I read poetry, there’s a style that’s appealing to me that I rarely stumbled upon. But when I did, I felt a sense of belonging, a connection to something greater than myself. Kant referred to that aesthetic quality as the Sublime. I guess it’s fitting.

Originally written in Romanian, translated into English, I wrote the first around end of 2014, November. I honestly like the Romanian version more, since Romanian language being derived from Latin, has a more poetic and lyrical quality to it, though isn’t as rich as English. The following two I’ve written in 2023, when I was in holiday roaming the Canaries.