Blood and Ink
You ask me why I write
And I answer, frankly,
‘To shed the excess blood
Threatening to drown me
If I stop spilling it
Wildly, mercilessly,
Over the blank, white page,
Begging to be tinted
With the secrets of my soul.
****
T. S. Elliot was born on this day, 26th of September, in the year 1888. His famous quote, ‘The purpose of literature is to turn blood into ink’, reminds us that writing a poem is often a painful and emotional, soul searching experience.
Find out more and read some of his wonderful poems here

Writers translate feelings into syllables and words which are painstakingly plucked from our conscious and subconscious minds and poured onto a blank page.
As I wrote in a previous post, writing a peom is, ‘excruciating, disturbing, and always frustrating, but there’s no alternative. It’s the only option for the poet, condemned to pursue that perfect combination of phrases, sounds and emotions, she will never find.’
And yet, it is cathartic. There is peace, for a while, when a poem is completed. And then, we begin again, because the search for the perfect poem may be closer, but it is never over, is it?
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