Creating Poetry When You Don’t Have a Life

The Chatty Introvert wonders how much of “a life” a poet needs.

The Chatty Introvert

Anybody who met me personally, other than wondering where the hell my energy and babbling comes from, would probably consider me to be the biggest square that ever walked about in my generation. I’m not much of a drinker, not a smoker, and more than a handful of college classmates told me that I’d probably be normal if I was on drugs.

My life is quiet, so to speak. I don’t talk to family much (there’s nothing to say unless it’s political, in which case there’s NOTHING to say). My sister-friend (only real friend and not casual aquaintance) is a  thousand miles away or more. I work all the time and the only people I talk to are clients at one job (wisecracks make the appointment go faster, and keeps me awake), a few co-workers at work, anybody at Starbucks with 30 seconds or more to spare, and that’s about…

View original post 856 more words

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s