Creativity,Collective Conscience and Desires

21 09 2007

I was just going through all my previous karma and unwittingly wandered to my blog roll(it had been quite some time that I went through them) The site being Poets Who Blog written by Sara. It has a very unique thing. Sara often arranges group poems, i.e a group of people will compose a poem without the apparent loss of their creativity ,yet sans the absolute authority of the flow of the poem. It goes on like this: Sara posts some three-four lines and invites people for their contribution to it. So people do exactly that and chip in. And jolly good! the contribution they do. And yes, Sara does acknowledge the source of each contribution. So I browsed back in the pages of time (and Sara’s blog) and what I found is a group poem started in August with just four lines by Sara grown to over 50 lines! But it sometimes strikes me as funny, you contributed it but cant say its your own(given the possessive guy I am), you wrote your lines but cant control its flow and it sometimes is funny to see how the river of collective creativity flows when all the banks and dam are broken apart.

So here is the poem I was talking about:

He didn’t ask for
Didn’t talk about regrets.
Wouldn’t think about the morning;
it wasn’t here yet.

Words spoken in haste;
Daggers hurled with intent.
Eternal damage inflicted,
But only temporarily meant.

a twisting tale of whirling dream
sat spinning through his mind,
a veil of words
sewn delicately
a palm to hide behind.

Never knew, whats wrong,
never felt whats right
but, in the silence of his lonely dreams,
sometimes he cried.
He did run all his life,
he did fall sometimes…
but unforgiving was his heart
for gone day’s crimes

there by the rags and the amputation
scavenging the shadow of the symbol
lives still the glow of his lost lantern
these are the lines of severance
a love letter sealed into the art
of the surgeon
the parts of him not here
fly like birds in an unrequited sky

This life takes leaving,
time unveils one more
unread book left on Life’s shelf –

his weathered hand
on the old book
as his fingertips
trace the delicate spine
he wonders
where the time went

He wouldn’t think of trangressions,
wouldn’t think about regrets,
or what may come in the dawning
that was not here yet.

His memories smudged among
the thin crevices of what is reality
and that which is sometimes not….
But now only too aware of the pace of time
He tries what he has not ever done
while he treads those withered hands on the book,
pauses now on something engraved deep, written in gold.
for all the words which broke heart a many,
& all his deeds, which struck’em misery
A tear silently wets his eye, as if
He now knew what’s been lost,
his own truth engraved deep, written in gold
Lines 1-5 by Sara at the Shores of My Dreams .

Lines 6-9 by Dan at Poetic Justice

Lines 10-14 by Absolutely Miles Away

Lines 15-22 by Soham Das

Lines 23-30 by Crimsonsonflaw

Lines 31-33 by Janet Leigh

Lines 34-40 by Autumn Moon

Lines 41-44 by Sara.

Lines 45-56 by Sarayu from Hues of Thought

But by the way what’s its name ? Does that also gets decided by the group?




One response

3 11 2007

I just found this post! I love how you talk about our Poets Who Blog post.

Right now we are doing another group poem called Poetry Tag. It has three more lines needed until I post it on PWB and let everyone know who added what line.

Its a one of a kind poem, I think, for I have never heard of a poem being created this way. And although it can not be a perfect poem, since each writer can only write one line, it is a unique creation in its own right. I really find it marvelous that poets are willing to contribute to it and grow something from nearly nothing.

Anyway, thanks for mentioning PWB here. I never can really tell how successfully the site is accomplishing its goal of spending poetry thoughout the blogosphere but when I stumble on posts like this, I start to think it might just be working.

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