For my first offering of 2019, I wanted something tranquil, if not uplifting. Much of the initial writing was done this past October, as I breathed in the post-dusk autumn air.
“Standing in My Garden”
Standing in my garden, dreaming in the dusk of suns that were once worth watching
And therein, a voice like a breath in the wind, a lucid rumour whispering;
This vessel’s nourishing ambrosia, tokens from the Fountain, which proffers a kiss
For sweeter fruits, from seeds that were sown from eyes divine-induced, prove worthy gifts
Standing in my garden, moonlight bleeding midnight to adorn me in turquoise
Rarely does she gift me ink more brightly for Light, breathing into holding poise
And under mist, that haze of silk threatens to take hold of twilight’s waning call
And no sweeter truth, under eyes widely bemused, could more easily enthrall
Standing in my garden, as rusted lanterns bring forth the rain from yesterday
With distant thunder whispering sweet lullabies under dark that won’t abate
And in the cornered shadows of my mind, lights give life to what I would discard
For the sweetest wound from lover’s grip will make the flower bloom into a star
© 2018 Andrew Drennen
Image used here is a digital composition of my own making.
I wanted this to be an introspective piece. A kind of visualization to describe how inspiration and muses bring to me the words with which I build.
And illustrating the intended ambience is the late evening hours. As the night wears on, a storm passes in the distance, complementing the midnight atmosphere.
Coincidentally, an interview with Mike Shinoda also contributed to my creating this poem. In the interview, he discussed how older cultures viewed the concept of inspiration: “My wife turned me onto a really great podcast that I’ve been talking about recently. It’s from about 10 years ago and it’s from Elizabeth Gilbert, who wrote Eat Pray Love. She talked about genius and inspiration and how the ancient Greeks and Romans used to see that as an external force or a God or a series of gods that would act through humans. So, you aren’t responsible for the great ideas that happen, and the benefit of that is that the pressure of doing it is off of you. You were just a vessel when it hit and you came up with a great idea for a song or a poem or philosophical idea.
Socrates would say that ideas were the result of ‘daemons’ coming to him and the Romans actually called those entities a ‘genius,’ and the genius wasn’t the human. It was the thing that came to you and through you. So, if it didn’t happen the next time, it wasn’t your fault. When you did something that failed, the genius just chose someone else and didn’t come to you. [Believing in that] would help a lot of musicians or artists who feel pressure to follow up a success because if that’s not happening sometimes we can be really hard on ourselves.”