Poetry and "real"

Over the yers I've learned to see and think in metaphors, but poetry is rare.
I find my poetry comes mostly in times of love, loss and loneliness...times of emotional rawness. I think that's what makes great artists...they're raw emotionally most of the time. Their senses are open wounds. Most of us have senses that are dulled or drugged by everyday life, and it takes exceptioal effort to go into detox to become real again.

From the Velveteen Rabbit:

“'What is REAL?' asked the Rabbit one day, 'Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?''Real isn't how you are made,' said the Skin Horse. 'It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.[...] 'Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,' he asked, 'or bit by bit?''It doesn't happen all at once,' said the Skin Horse. 'You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to the people who don't understand.'”