Is that the cost of inspiration, then?
You steal from the artist an idea,
a thought, a penny, in the market square
and say it’s borrowed?
Is that the price you pay for a good deed
not unpunished; the law of Karma nullified;
not returned by another fair and square –
stolen, to be returned tomorrow?
And returned by whom? Another one –
another Star leaving sparkles everywhere
that you may bend to tie your shoelaces in the market square
and come back up with a loot – to be stolen in its turn…some other morrow.
Dear reader, my words are being plagiarsed so often these days that I’m sometimes terrified out of my wits before sharing anything – not just online, but even in conversation (and these are just the ones I know of). I first experienced it years ago when a poem of mine published in a school magazine was plagiarised to another, and after that, every now and then this ugly deed kept raising its drowning head to breathe in my personal space. From strangers, to friends, even, regretfully, to those close to home – I was spared by none. If I mentioned it to someone, they suggested I be flattered by it, not understanding that there’s nothing flattering in imitation, whatever clichéd proverbs might maintain. There were many nights I stayed up tossing and turning and thinking whether I really was being paranoid and if this really, is, a part of being a writer. I never found the answer.
Anyway, delusionally optimistic and hopelessly romantic, I found solace in something my dear grandfather said to me when I shared my heart with him – “Unless anyone has walked through your life, in your shoes; or has the soul you have – they can never be anything more than a copy”.
I would’ve never shared something like this – but I’m human too, and there was only so much I could take.
Love to all the truly creative ones out there,