They asked: Where does your creativity come from? And I said:
John’s poetry style differs from mine, but I often find a good thought, a point of contact. After reading one of his works published to his list, I wrote him a short note. “I hear ya, brother, I hear ya.”
Shortly, John replied.
“Don’t know what I would have done without your work of late — thanks.”
Enigmatic, but suggestive.
I chewed on that phrase most of the day. It stirred something deep within me.
It bespoke trials, discouragement, a tiny light of hope seen in something I had written — assuming I wasn’t reading into his reply. I wondered, what in my work did he find that braced him?
John and I have swapped poetic ramblings through email for some time. So his phrase wasn’t a mere electronic drip without context. The implied tenuousness of his words had moved me, and that emotion sought expression.
In minutes, a poem had taken shape. “Frailty.” Oh, it still needs revision, but the essence had appeared. Creativity had been stirred.
The creative urge springs from many fountains, but none so powerful as the reflections from one soul to another. The proverb, “As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another,” is never so true as when a friend sparks in another the fire of creativity.
J. Randal Matheny
Sao Jose dos Campos, Brazil
Randal’s creativity percolates on www.cloudburstpoetry.com .