So out of a very captivating conversation following a phenomenal poetry spectacle, a question emerges, a very insight seeking type of question. Digging deep into ones consciousness and intellect serves as the only means to measure the magnitude of the intent behind the potency of the question. Her eyes interlocked with mine, lips within perfect speech sharing position, hot air blowing out of our nostrils breathing life into the purpose of our conversation, she motions her lips and proposes speech, softly she asks “what inspires you to write poetry?”
In my attempt to give a profound reply, my subconscious takes a trip down memory lane. The year was 2003, the month was that of commercial love and romance and I at the time was just a high school boy who was at the prime of his teenage years, exploring was my game and making new discoveries was my goal. New love was in order with a certain girl in my class and it is because of her that I got introduced to poetry. Not because I wanted to write her beautiful poetry to sweep her off her feet nor quote Shakespear to soothe her ear, instead I followed her to the school library one afternoon and the next moment I found myself sitting in at what appeared to be a poetry session and to my awe I discovered that she was a poetess.
Exactly five hours after that astonishing discovery and wonderful experience my first poem was born and funny enough she was the subject, she was the inspiration behind the poem and ultimately she became the sperm that fertilised the poetic ovum that was already ripe inside of me and that poetry session I followed her to was the nourishment and catalyst to the pregnancy that resulted to such a delivery prematurely matured.
She ignited the flame and you (yes you reading this) kept the fire burning. People in general, their situations, challenges and triumphs, ideas and ideals, lives and lies, money and moods and general views have over the years continued to motivate me into putting down pen onto paper, thus documenting fragments of my thoughts into beautifully constructed literature that is moulded in verses and stanzas that contain poetic content.
So I looked her in the eye and softly but boldly replied to her and said “I wish I wrote poetry”. She looked at me with a confused eye and I took her out of her momentary confusion by saying “I do not write poetry but poetry writes me instead”. I have reached a realisation that poets do not become poets because they write poetry but poetry in itself defines a poet and poetry produces a poet.
So for I have allowed myself to become a product of the art, I now claim the title of artist and now art reproduces it’s own evolution through my hand,mind, voice and holistic being, hence I am called NGUDU-THE-POET!
Now I believe that you know who is the Poetry behind the Poet, if not then follow me on twitter @NguduThePoet for continued updates… Word!!!
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