Publishing My Poetry Collection

I learned to write poetry when I decided to take a fiction-writing class at Western Michigan University. All my teenage life, I dreamt to be a writer of novels.

And so I enrolled in Herb Scott’s poetry/fiction writing class in the wintery beginning of 1992. But unfortunately for me, he made us write poem after poem. When was the fiction writing going to start? And worse of all, I had to read them out in front of all those Americans.

I was a really shy person. Would they laugh at my English? I don’t know how to write poetry. It’s not what I signed up for! But fortunately for me, I love the English language. It’s the only language I can read and write in fluently.

I thank my mother and my aunts for buying and lending me English storybooks in my childhood days. And thanks to some classmates who had really good English, which made me embarassed at my poor level of English. So I paid more attention to it and read more books. It was the only thing I did well – reading. Not school books -- but storybooks.

Then, I decided I would take English Literature for my Sixth Form exam, thinking it was going to be easy to pass! Again I was thrown into the English sea of artistic interpretation, reading ancient texts from Shakespeare and Jane Austen. It was difficult. But I did get introduced to the writings of famous English poets like William Blake and John Keats, and was amazed at their skill for beautiful descriptions.

But then again, what I did know about writing poetry? I didn’t understand most of the poems I read. My teacher had to explain each word and the meaning of each line to me. Now I know poetry is about sharing. And so, it’s alright if you ask somebody to explain it. It’s alright to read it in front of others. It’s alright for others to critique it.

I want to publish my collection of poetry, to be entitled The Naked Poet. I always wondered why Jamie Oliver’s cooking show was called “The Naked Chef.” After watching it, there was nothing quite naked about it!

These poems are from a very private me. And sharing it with the world is akin to baring everything – and that’s frightening and intimidating at the same time -- just like writing this blog. I am from the generation that is used to writing our feelings in private diaries in which we'd hide away from Mom and everybody else. (Imagine what happened when Mom found it! It was not good....especially since I commented something bad about her).

But it’s always been my desire to share myself with the world and hope that my share of humanity and life adds to history’s bookshelves. I feel like I am here for this purpose, even though I keep hiding behind my insignificance.

These poems were written from 1991 to 2011. But there were a lot of empty spaces in between. Spaces that were basically dry spells in my life of creating -- a time when I did not know or love myself, and when I was depressed about why I was not loved in return.

My Village Playground was the first poem in this collection. It got an A. And that’s when it all began.

The Business Of Creativity

Everyone is born to create. We create our present. We create our future.

There is a love-hate relationship with “creativity.” What does the word mean?

I am in a so-called creative business. But that’s just a misconception. Every business is creative in one way or another. We create a strategy, a product, a marketing plan, a filing system, a procedure etc.

Some people I know like to refer to certain groups as “oh, those creative people are like that you know ” — refering to film directors, writers, artistes, designers, stylists. I take offense in this. So, if I don’t throw my tantrum like one of them, then I am not creative? If I don’t dress myself in a certain way, then I am not creative?

And why is that people who involve themselves in the arts are mostly stereotyped in character: pot-smoking, bohemian, tight-shirted, tattoed, uncombed hair, undisciplined, emotional, egoistic, …..and poor?

The arts is a painful business. Psychologists and many learned people encourage to involve children in the arts to learn how to express our individuality and to nurture our cultural and creative instincts. On the other hand, businesses, families and most governments treat the arts as the last option of serious business. What, support the arts?

Moviemaking, Art, Dance, Music, Theatre — all encompass what we call “the arts.”

This confusion created by modern society towards the subject of “the arts” leaves us on a pathetic, half-hearted, stop-and-start journey. Do we go or do we not? Or do we stop awhile till the economy gets better? Till someone notices us? The river either flows or it dries up.

Should the arts have no monetary value? Be last on your list? No funding for the hungry artist? No reward for creativity? Shouldn’t the artist be respected as leaders of the human race? Messengers Definers? Speakers? Perpetrators?

Without the arts, there would be no heritage today. No ancient ruins. No designs. No castles. No jewelry. No culture. No history. No dance. No music. No stories. No love. No uniqueness.

No us.

Without the arts, we are nothing. Oblivion.