Thoughts. Ramblings. Heavy-hipped. Mango-obsessed.

Coffee & Definitions...

I like the smell of coffee when I'm writing. For some reason, it makes me feel like more of 'a writer'. Peppermint tea doesn't quite cut it (though I do like that too).

I've never felt like a writer, though I've sometimes called myself that. And people have called me the same - 'a writer'. Sometimes it's easier to just say I'm a writer - some people have asked me what I'm into & when I've said 'poetry', they reply 'say that again?' or they say 'poultry' and I've had to repeat myself like 2 or 3 times. Ho hum...

Do you have to write everyday to be a writer? Do you have to feel like there's an intolerable itch you need to scratch if you don't write for days at a time? I don't write obsessively, not the way I used to - when I first got into poetry, I was like a nympho - poems scribbled on anything I could write on with anything I could write with. I've calmed down somewhat, almost like a couple who've emigrated to the Caribbean to retire, spending the rest of their days enjoying the simple life. But, I don't dream any less - I dream as feverishly and abundantly as I used to, just like I did before I got into poetry.

I feel 'the itch' if I don't dream everyday though, if I'm not creating things in my head. I have a handful of ideas a day, it's what sustains my spirit - sometimes it's secondary whether these ideas come to fruition or not - it's just the joy of it panning out in my brain - it really quickens my blood.

I'm willing to accept I'm a poet, but not a writer, though I do write. And it's not a confidence issue, you know, of me not feeling I live up to the title - I used to think that that was it, but it isn't. I'm not a poet because I 'write' poetry - I'm a poet inspite of it. I was dreaming in poetry way before that - I could have created music, dance, paintings, film out of my dream-thoughts, but, for now, I (mostly) cho(o)se to 'write' it - 'for now' being the operative word - 'cos 'now' ain't even a constant, not in my world anyway.

Maybe that's why my mind throws a hiccup when I'm called:

- a performance poet
- a performer
- a spoken-word artist
- a writer

and I'm sure I'd feel the same way if, upon exploring music, I'm called a musician or singer.

Two things I know - I'm a poet (in the widest sense possible), I'm Ebele (oh yeah, and I'm a woman). A poet who has chosen to write her poems for now. Next year, I might choose to paint my poems. Hell, year after that, I might dance 'um. Or do all three together. And I don't have to be brilliant at them either - just wanna do what my soul feels to do and not argue with it (did you know my soul has a six-pack?).

So, yeah, I'm a poet (she smiles - a smile so wide, so beauty-full, it distracts you from the spinach lodged b/w her teeth).



ebele (black pixie/ mango ho'/ heart as big as her backside....


( and that's a lot of heart ;-) )

2 comments:

Philomena Ojikutu said...

Hi Ebele,

I am proud of you sister, and thanks for the visit to the telenovela love garden. (it's not as poetic as you may want. (lol)

I essentially agree with you, with respect to the racist web hosting company in Ireland.

But my state of mind is working in another direction now. The web is such an awesome tool that no racism could subdue your talents.

I would rather continue and concentrate on tasks that would make me excel.

Currently speaking, this so-called 'biggest hosting provider' in Ireland does not match my traffic and Google Pagerank.

her racial practice notwithstanding.

Ebele said...

Hi sis

Thank you, my sista. And thanks for passing by.

I think your decision to keep hard at excelling is a another positive way to go and I admire you for it.

take care...

Ka eme sie,

Ebele