Poetry for a better world

I WANTED a better world.

So I designed the June 2018 Poem-a-thon and Poetry Workshop with Peter Solis Nery on Facebook.

If I cannot change the world with my own poems alone, I wanted to influence other poets to be better poets.

That sounds like a joke.

And maybe it is.

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But for the participants of my online workshop, I made sure that they understood that a workshop with Peter Solis Nery is not a game, but a life-changing experience.

If at all, I want them to, at least, develop a sense of wakefulness, and an awareness of their surrounding.

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I want them to develop a habit of just looking at the world, and finding poetic inspirations, poetic situations, poetic possibilities.

I want them to be aware of the effect of their chosen words.

I want them to make careful choices when they use words.

And to use only a few words to maximum effect.

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To chastise them, I use my flair with words.

I use picturesque insults to make my point.

I make my comments unforgettable.

I act like I know what I’m doing.

And I liberally use the f-word to jolt people into reality.

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I’m not sure that I’m a sadist.

But I hurt them enough to make them remember not to do their mistakes again.

You know, like burning their fingers in live coal to know what’s hot and what’s not?

I pretend not to care about their feelings.

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In the end, I know, they will love me.

Because they’ll understand they’re not there for their bruised egos to be stroked.

In fact, exactly for their egos to be stripped naked, and destroyed, so they can be built anew, and stronger.

In the end, they will understand that I really care for them to be great poets.

And I care enough to sacrifice my “sainted image” so they will tremble in the love of poetry, as we tremble in the face of God.

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But precisely because I can be ruthless in my critiques, I can’t afford free loaders.

Or those kibitzers who only read what others are painfully writing, and simply, totally just enjoying what pearls I’m throwing to swine without them risking something.

Like their heart on the page.

Or, their soul on the table.

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In the end, I think I’m a pretty fair guy.

In fairness to my devoted and faithful participants, I remove from the workshop those who do not comply with my rules of engagement.

In fairness to those ejected few, I chastise the remaining ones to be even more prompt and devoted.

In fairness to me, I only tolerate those who play by my rules.

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I do not think I’m the only one that people should listen to.

I do not think I’m the solution to the world’s problems.

But because I only mean well, people tend to think that I am the solution.

Or, that I am the one they should listen to.

And how beautiful when it happens.

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In my workshop, I’ve seen people grow.

I’ve seen talent develop right before my very own eyes.

I’ve seen how people’s respect for me have been rewarded with genuine learning and understanding.

Openness guarantees fulness. Or something like that.

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So, where has all my self-promotion and literary egotism led me?

To people who were actually ready to listen and learn from the great Peter Solis Nery, that’s where!

And where does that lead them?

To their renewed understanding of themselves.

To the rekindling of their own poetic fire.

To their new happiness as human beings.

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Here’s the thing: Many of the participants in my workshop are extremely talented.

(I think some are even better poets than I am, but I don’t tell them that!)

Some only needed affirmation.

Some, a little coaching.

And some, just the simplest of writing prompts.

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Mostly, they just need an assurance that someone will read their work with patience.

And with an appreciation for their efforts.

I think I’m pretty good at that!

I mean, why would a 67-year old, or a 71-year old, or a self-absorbed 18-year old be so sleeplessly excited and up worried sick waiting for what I have to say about what they have written?

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After this workshop, some of these participants will go on to be great poets.

Some will probably slide back to their comfortable, maybe humdrum, lives, and never write again.

But for one month, we were happy.

I was happy! And I was god!

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After this workshop, our paths will diverge in a yellowing world.

But for one moment, we made all the difference.

But for special one moment, I made all the difference! (500tinaga@gmail.com/PN)