The nice thing about writing my poetry is that, as long as I know what I'm trying to say, it probably IS officially poetry, even if nobody else "gets it".
I remember a story years ago about a poet who got a government grant to write a poem, and, as the time was running out for him to produce his work, he submitted a single sheet of paper with the word "Nothing", on it.
That was his poem.
Was he right?
Was he a poet?
I certainly don't know.
To tell the truth, I CAN see where a poet, attempting to deliver a "message" could do exactly that. On the other hand, it's also obviously, quite possibly a cop out, by someone who was unable to deliver the goods.
Who's to say?
Only the "poet" knows just what was in the brain that produced the end product.
Rambling thoughts. Under the heading of "thinking out loud", but this seems off the beaten path enough to be called errant thought.
Not a deep subject, but one I've wondered about for years.
When do we cease being a poet, and become a charlatan, using our wits to disguise our lack of inventiveness? And, just as an aside, does the ability to deceive in that manner show that we actually ARE what we claimed to be in the first place?
Donovan Baldwin