Words What else can we say? As writers, we are wordsmiths. I love that perhaps now old-fashioned noun. Wordsmith. We are smithies forging something real, something of meaning, from within us. A mystery. Our work lives or dies by word choice, among other things. It is part of our craft. So, during this very digressive series of reflections today, I ended up with a word. Enough. I just posted a poem by that title a bit ago. The word enough is in the last line. It is just the right word. Right word…right place. Ah, but after posting the poem, I dimly remembered that I had used the same word, enough, in a different poem, in the same placement…last line….because in that poem it is exactly the right word. For me, choosing that perfect word, the one that captures an image or an idea or a feeling, is a fascinating and all-absorbing process. Remembering the much earlier poem, titled Remnant, led me right back to it so I could see how I had used the word and what it meant in that particular piece. Same word, same place, so different. The poem Enough reflects something of life in its wholeness, from a very personal point of view. The poem, Remnant, is a reflection on a relationship, the loss of intimacy in its all-encompassing form within a relationship, not just the physicality, and the acceptance that a relationship has run its course and has ended. I think it shows the power of that word. Enough.
In a separate post, I’m sharing my poem, Remnant. Maybe you’ll find the word usage interesting, as I find word usage as a whole, fascinating. Or maybe not.
Oh, and yes, every now and then I must yet again mention my book Spent, which is about intimacy and love in and out of relationships at various stages of life. The links to the publisher and sources are on my About page. I love this chapbook. We pour something of ourselves into each piece we write, each collection we conceive as a whole. So, of course, I would love you to purchase it. It’s what we do, isn’t it? I’ve learned over time that within the personal that I write of, some readers will find something of themselves, of their own personal. I have experienced as a reader throughout my lifetime, the power of the personal when used by a writer I connect with. As a writer, I have sometimes found the same response to my work from my readers. Reader, writer, reader…..it’s a kind of intimacy. An intimacy of language.