THIS SERIES is called “That Ilonggo writer” because that’s what I’m referred to by people on the account of my online writing workshops.
Of course, it can mean “that Ilonggo writer who has the gall to teach creative writing.”
But also, “that Ilonggo writer who can, and who did.”
Either way, I’m happy to be “that Ilonggo writer.”
*
To continue with the points to ponder about clichés that I discussed last time, let’s look at another of my zany posts—
*
Avoid clichés: When lonely or afraid, you do not need a boyfriend.
You only need one of his hands to hold yours.
Don’t be needy!
*
I write a lot of You-and-I “poems.” (Note the quotation marks.)
Because they’re the easiest to do.
Watch me:
I am the moon rising
climbing your vast
endless sky.
*
But recently, You-and-I constructions have been ruined for me by wannabes who make it even more prosaic and pedestrian.
Watch this example (not mine):
I need you
as the moon
needs the sky.
*
Or, this (again, not mine):
Without you
my world
is dark.
*
I adore poems of love and longing.
I am not the Prince of Sob for nothing.
But, please, people, give your “poems” some magnificence.
Let it be bigger than your needy self.
Let it say more than your basic need.
*
I mean, I admit I was guilty of doing exactly what many of you are doing right now.
But I’ve grown older, and wiser.
At least, my poems are now longer than one sentence. Haha.
And, at least, I experiment with forms, and POVs, et cetera.
And I’m actually playing, and having fun, with words now.
And people love me for it.
*
Because it is so sad to be writing only of our neediness.
What’s so poetic about “I need you”?
“I need you like the flowers need the rain” is beautiful.
Or it was. Until it became a cliché.
*
It’s hard to be writing this without sounding bitter, or arrogant.
But again, if I’m assaulted by bad poetry, I feel I should fight back and attack bad poetry, too.
I mean, I have to fight back somehow.
If I’m a real writer, I should use my words to wage my wars.
And also, there’s the other part of me that wants to share what little arrogant knowledge I have.
Obviously, only to those who want to hear me.
*
Because again, I only want to matter to those who need me.
And I think I’m pretty resigned to the idea that I cannot satisfy the world, even if the whole planet admits that living things need me.
So, again, I don’t want to argue.
I’m just saying what I know.
THIS SERIES is called “That Ilonggo writer” because that’s what I’m referred to by people on the account of my online writing workshops.
Of course, it can mean “that Ilonggo writer who has the gall to teach creative writing.”
But also, “that Ilonggo writer who can, and who did.”
Either way, I’m happy to be “that Ilonggo writer.”
*
To continue with the points to ponder about clichés that I discussed last time, let’s look at another of my zany posts—
*
Avoid clichés: When lonely or afraid, you do not need a boyfriend.
You only need one of his hands to hold yours.
Don’t be needy!
*
I write a lot of You-and-I “poems.” (Note the quotation marks.)
Because they’re the easiest to do.
Watch me:
I am the moon rising
climbing your vast
endless sky.
*
But recently, You-and-I constructions have been ruined for me by wannabes who make it even more prosaic and pedestrian.
Watch this example (not mine):
I need you
as the moon
needs the sky.
*
Or, this (again, not mine):
Without you
my world
is dark.
*
I adore poems of love and longing.
I am not the Prince of Sob for nothing.
But, please, people, give your “poems” some magnificence.
Let it be bigger than your needy self.
Let it say more than your basic need.
*
I mean, I admit I was guilty of doing exactly what many of you are doing right now.
But I’ve grown older, and wiser.
At least, my poems are now longer than one sentence. Haha.
And, at least, I experiment with forms, and POVs, et cetera.
And I’m actually playing, and having fun, with words now.
And people love me for it.
*
Because it is so sad to be writing only of our neediness.
What’s so poetic about “I need you”?
“I need you like the flowers need the rain” is beautiful.
Or it was. Until it became a cliché.
*
It’s hard to be writing this without sounding bitter, or arrogant.
But again, if I’m assaulted by bad poetry, I feel I should fight back and attack bad poetry, too.
I mean, I have to fight back somehow.
If I’m a real writer, I should use my words to wage my wars.
And also, there’s the other part of me that wants to share what little arrogant knowledge I have.
Obviously, only to those who want to hear me.
*
Because again, I only want to matter to those who need me.
And I think I’m pretty resigned to the idea that I cannot satisfy the world, even if the whole planet admits that living things need me.
So, again, I don’t want to argue.
I’m just saying what I know.
After all, I’m “that Ilonggo writer” who could./PN
After all, I’m “that Ilonggo writer” who could./PN
