Poetry In The Ancient City Of Plovdiv
“This is the Technical age, no place for Poetry.”
Poetry is that that dreadful source of Ecstasy, Bliss, and Depth.
All of that is not necessary for the normal lives of people.
I never liked the idea of monuments, fixed statements, the idea of endings, and I most certainly, I did not believe in anything real vanishing into oblivion. “Poetry is dead”, somebody said to me.
*I wrote this article some time ago, it was intended for publishing “somewhere in Israel”. Well, I still have no news whether it was published or not, so here it is being published in my tiny space for Boundless Inspiration.
Poetry stands in the way, it does not sit well with the ideas of success sold to the public eyes today, and it normally tears off the masks of false perfection. It is uncomfortable as it hints about truths and inner realities which are reminding humans of their higher nature.
The Written word and her daughter going by the name of Poetry play the subtle act of softness in people’s lives.
A couple of years ago, a journalist in Plovdiv took me “by hand” in that 40-degree weather to go listen to what a room full of international poets had to say.
We went up the stairs in the Ancient Town of Plovdiv in an old house from the Revival Days in Bulgaria, we listened to poetic readings. Little did I know that at the end of their meeting, I would be asked kindly to read some of my writing.
Challenged & Challenged Some More
I had been writing and successfully limiting the exposure of my writing. And it’s the best way to do it. Now, I have been challenged many times, when it comes to writing.
The moment I opened it up, things started changing very quickly, some whirlwinds came into my life and many choices started piping up, some of which – uncomfortable, to say the least.
There I was, reading in front of so many poets inside Vuzrajdane1983 Reading House (or Chitalishte, as we call it in Bulgarian), hearing honest appreciation. The room was full of light and my feet were shaking. There’s rarely so much light in board rooms, I’m afraid. And I did take it as a sign since it was so uncomfortable for me to do it.
My hometown’s poetic glory has been of value in Bulgaria, where figures like Dobromir Tonev, Dimcho Debelyanov, or Hristo G. Danov. The last one created the first Publishing house in Bulgaria.
What did we have in the city, well before the pandemic? Festivals, Poetry readings, Book signings in Trakart Gallery or in the Revival Houses, presentations in The Cultural Institute of Plovdiv or Ivan Vazov Library. But that’s still how reality appears on the outer layers. There’s still something missing, and I seem to be good at finding jewels in the dust.
I have learned that the most beautiful things in our lives happen quietly. Poetry never needed a loud audience, it does not need “strength in numbers”, it services its purpose as it should – traveling from an eye to eye, mimicking the irony of the present, being kept as a small book in the purse, handwritten on napkins, kept on notes on your phone or simply being stuck between that heavy schedule of yours.
An intimate art that sometimes conveys universal ideas
Yes, Poetry is very unnecessary as it consists of bursts of creativity, tenderness, and boldness. It multiplies everything; it unifies and reminds us we are not separate from each other, on a certain level of consciousness.
Poetry seems obsolete, yet millions of people online and offline are looking for sips of poetic beauty in the last years. And it will continue if you ask me. We need outlets, we need Life, we need forms like poetry to express or at least touch on higher moments in our lives.
Very few do not compromise the light of poetry by analyzing it, judging it or smothering it with opinions. In a Soul-filling experience that cannot be replaced by any new norm or way of conduct.
Poetry is healing. Words are healers.
They are that balancing act between the psyche, the vastness of living, and the inner truths we hold. It’s irreplaceable, my friend. Copywriters these days are born like mushrooms after the rain and indeed the good copywriters are one part poets too, storytellers increase their numbers and people are even thirstier for food for the soul, for healing, for the embrace of pure being. They call this outside noise “nonsense”.
Is it misguided to look for the Essence, for what is Divine and Eternal?
If you divide any of my views, you will understand I hold no single point of them as hostages. If you, by the chance lack that special inner organ to listen and read poetry, if you have no idea how not to take things literally if you don’t love singing with the metaphors, allegories, and endless layers of existence, my poetry will not do much for you.
No poetry will do anything specific for you.
If you are looking for a self-affirming way to strengthen the dogma, poets will always be those strange creatures that refuse to live in your realm of reality; they will look to you impractical, unnecessary, or simply hungry for attention.
Since our writing and talking have become gradually devoid of substance, editors often complain of the quality of the writing they receive, and since the speed of doing things requires us to always be on the winning side with every sentence we utter, poetry seems outdated.
Poetry steps on the toes of the whole well-constructed 21st-century process of living productively…
in complete acceptance with the social reality of “making a living” without making anything else.
Yet Businesses, for example, seem to crave people these days, who are familiar with Creativity, Artistry, and Depth because they tend out to be … well, most of all – alive. They don’t underestimate any step, and they don’t look only to the next quarterly results or their next report.
Because they tend to value living and working in the sense of mastery, therefore they hold a very different value. One that cannot be quantified that easily and placed on a simple sheet. Their entire Presence in the room is worthy.
While this question does not exist to me, it does exist for many others. Yet, Poetry also lives everywhere.
Everywhere! It lives in your car when you drive off to work, it lives on the street, and in the eyes of the Souls you meet your way, in the kind gesture, the loving hand.
All of this is poetry, the sweet melodic dance of living.