[Have to make this more regular. It helps me think.]
The repetition of a poem can be exciting, depending on how it is use. In chants, they’re amazing. A power steadily building into something enormous. An emotion. A release. Most other poems attempt to use them in a similar effect, but never quite getting it. Take for example a type of poem trying to rally the troops together. It simply can’t happen that way. Repetition isn’t for cheering, because the results are ultimately beyond you. Life has this unfortunate sort of repetition.
Maybe I’m just being down on myself as of late. Not finding things really all that enjoyable anymore. I’m getting bored. That isn’t to say that I don’t have plenty to do, believe me I’ve been doing them. Reading up a storm as always, writing what I can. The writing has been the troubling aspect, I guess…
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