SANTOSH BAKAYA
So far, I have written about the importance of honing one’s craft every day. The only way one can do it is by READING AND READING A LOT.
Believe me, one can learn something from even a person new to poetry.
“You are a genius!” I heard someone complimenting a friend. But, honestly speaking, genius is illusory.
Poetry, an outlet for us to process happiness, sorrow, and struggles, also leads to a heightened awareness, making us stop and listen to the squirrels’ heartbeats, the lapwing’s strut and swagger, the peacock’s vanity, as he strutted around flaunting his finery, the indifference of the peahens, the kingfisher’s royal grandeur, the sunrays on the tree leaves, a hopping hare, the snow on the hills, the green bee- eaters, the babbling brooks, the rustle of the branches, sparrows and myneas diving past your window, and the soft- hued light, clouds, vanishing from the stony brow of precipitous mountains.
Believe me, you can write poems on all these scenes that you see. Try writing one, using all your sensory
Even maggots and wasps can be a subject to write about. The sweet allure of the peach blossoms attracts them. I have seen wasps burrowing inside the fruit, slurping on the sap of the damaged fruit, and swiftly nibbling out huge cavities. How about trying out a poem on that intriguing scene? Or how the mother and father birds feed their young ones? Or the manner in which the weaver bird weaves its unique nest?
There is a poet hidden inside all of us, and all of us can write if we have the time and inclination. These days, I often hear youngsters say that they hardly ever read. Let me tell them, no one can become a writer without reading. Certain types of writing stoke our curiosity, and we inadvertently gravitate towards that type of writing. Poetry can transport us to different worlds. We see the juxtaposition of the ordinary and the extraordinary, the boring and the exciting, the sad and the happy. There is a poem for every season.
Sometimes, when the world becomes unbearable, I anchor myself in a poem. Lo and behold, the bland becomes beautiful, and the mundane magical.
SENSORY MEMORY
You know, your sensory memory can also enthuse you into writing a poem.
Echoic memory, hepatic memory, gustatory memory, Iconic memory, and olfactory memory: Echoic Memory is the memory of the melody of a song that clings to you, even after it is no longer playing. Many are the poems that I have written on the way; my father used to sing a particular song. It keeps echoing in memory.
An example of Hepatic Memory [a tactile, sensory memory], like a handshake, a hug, the pup affectionately licking you, or the lingering sensation of a raindrop falling on your skin.
How can I ever forget the poem that erupted from my heart when an old, impoverished woman whom I met in the park many times, hugged me affectionately, thanking me profusely for the blanket and quilts I had given her? The smell of flowers that I used to pick for my mother from our garden still clings to me; what better example of olfactory sensory memory can there be? The smell of culinary delicacies wafting across from that kitchen of yore is also something on which I have penned many a poem.
Gustatory sensory memory refers to the taste of something:
the lingering taste of marmalade on a piece of toast, maple syrup on a pancake, or homemade butter on a crisp, hot paratha.
Iconic Memory is a fast-decaying, high-capacity visual image of your environment, which lasts only for a fraction of a second, and is permanently deleted.
It can be compared to a temporary snapshot.
Examples can be highway signs or a flash of lightning.
So, friends, keep your senses alert; keep your ears and eyes open, and hey presto, a poem will soon be born!
The author is an academician, poet, essayist, novelist, and TEDx speaker, with more than twenty published books to her credit.
