Thursday, 3 July 2014

A Thirst

12:09:00 Posted by Lara Clayton , , , , 3 comments
It has been a while since I jotted down anything which resembles a poem, and even longer since I managed to write anything I actually like. I feel thirsty - my mind dehydrated, shrivelling and shrinking. I imagine a slug caught on a salt trail - osmosis - the melting mess baking in English sun.

I know there are possible solutions - causes of action which may result in a different outcome - the "If you write all day you'll get into it, into your body, into your feelings, into your consciousness" ethos - but this always seems far easier to quote than to implement.

When you are really thirsty - in a literal sense - any palatable liquid will suffice. After long walks over Grizedale I've been delighted by the prospect of tent-warm bottled water - self-imposed coffee restriction (because of the expense) at Latitude has made the one-cup-a-day coffee the most satisfying I've tasted - a baobab fruit drink shack in the humid climes of The Eden Project's rainforest saw me downing a mysterious, milky concoction without a moment of suspicion or hesitation. In our Western society of convenience, thirst can be quickly quenched. But, while the dryness of tongue is easily resolved by a multitude of flavoured liquids, the rehydration of my mind seems to be a more complicated and less convenient process.

Reluctance - laziness - fear. That new pad of yellow paper with its fresh-start intention remains blank. The attempt to romanticise - digging out the old typewriter - fails to bring the love story it promised. Creativity and craft - plentiful on my bookshelves but suddenly empty once in my hands. A world which used to be rich with idea is now poor and quiet. A thirst that even the luxuries of Western society cannot quench.   

A Mortally Wounded Brigand Quenches His Thirst — Eugene Delacroix



She who shall not be named said...

This makes me think about my mum's advice when I was a teenager and really wanted a boyfriend. She told me that if I forgot about boyfriends and went out and enjoyed myself, then, because I would be happy and smiling, I would find boys more likely to approach me. And if they didn't, it wouldn't matter because I would be out enjoying myself.

I think the same thing could apply here. If you forget about poetry and concentrate on enjoying everything else. Maybe poetry will find you.

Lara Clayton said...

I really like this advice :)

Adele said...

Write a poem called Thirst - then use some of the wonderful prose in this blog.