It had been a warm day when the young teenager from around the corner called in on the retiree.
It was only a short walk from getting off the bus and his home and he would call in on the way back from school as often as he could. His host lived on his own and was always glad to spend a short time with him. The boy was very keen on English as a class subject. In fact, he’d been producing short pieces from the time he first learnt how to write. He read a lot, mainly classical novels from the local library, but his favourite topic was poetry. The old man he visited spent most of his time writing short stories as a hobby and would only occasionally write poems. As luck would have it, on this occasion the older writer had recently completed a poem. The boy had always been interested in the man’s ideas about how poetry can improve a person’s understanding of a subject.
The boy was sitting in the study, having been given a chilled glass of lemonade, while the man sat across from him, waiting for his first question. The boy always had questions.
“What’s your latest? The schoolboy asked.
“My latest? Funnily enough, I’ve just finished a particularly difficult piece of free verse; not a form of poetry I use very often. That’s probably why I struggled with it.”
The boy brightened at the mention of poetry. “Can I ask what you mean by free verse?”
“Of course. Free verse is a more open form. It doesn’t follow patterns. In fact, it comes across more like everyday speech.”
“Does it still rhyme?”
“Sometimes a poet will include a bit, but not often. Most of the time I write in what can be called true or full rhyme. I feel sure you have read a lot like this. Unlike free verse, it uses rhyming vowel sounds at the end of lines of poetry.”
The boy nodded. “Yes. I’ve read a lot like that.”
The man chuckled. “Yes, well, for me, it’s a lot easier to write.”
Sitting up, the boy said, “OK. So, tell me about your struggle.”
The writer smiled. “I guess it’s all about titles.” He shrugged. “That’s how it started, anyway. Maybe some writers are more concerned with how they label their pieces than others. I’m probably a bit more finicky about it than most.”
The boy nodded in silence for a while.
“Of course, you must follow your own path. You understand that these are just my preferences. You should always feel free to write what you like and in whatever way you like to write it.”
The boy repeated, “Your struggle?”
The man grimaced.
“OK. I suppose you could say that there are times when looking too closely at the difference between one word and another can be a hindrance. Put simply, I was battling with the choice of titles, those being ‘Thoughts’ and ‘Ideas’. My working title was ‘Thoughts’, but somewhere along the way, I had doubts about the true nature of the thing I was writing.” He momentarily closed his eyes, then went on. “At first, after spending a great deal of time writing short, descriptive lines that I wanted to include, I paused to consider the topic. It was at that point that I saw this particular poem was really more about ideas and less about thoughts.”
The boy raised his eyebrows.
“Let me explain,” the other went on, “the word ‘thoughts’ is about the basic mental activity that brings about what one thinks, but the word ‘ideas’ is about what is produced as a result of thinking. Do you see the difference?”
The boy looked blank for a beat or two, before looking at the time. “I think so,” he said, as he got up.
On the way out, he genuinely thanked the old man for the drink and his time, as he always did.
Watching him go the man couldn’t help wondering if during this visit he’d overloaded the boy with ideas. Maybe, talking about his troubles and going into the deeper aspects of putting pen to paper, might not be the best thing.
After all, skipping the learning curve wouldn’t help him. In fact, it could be a hindrance.
