Friday, 21 April 2017

Poetry Journal I – Beginnings


I've touched on my thoughts on poetry before, in a post outlining my goals for this year and during my review of Rupi Kaur’s Milk & Honey, but for the sake of detailing my Poetry Journal process so far, it makes sense to start from the beginning again.

I became fascinated with poetry somewhere around GCSE age, when studying the likes of Carol Ann Duffy. Yep, haters gonna hate. But I kept my interest behind a strictly reader-only barrier until I began my degree and began throwing myself eyes closed into poetry writing modules. Pretty terrifying for someone who hadn’t written a line of the stuff since a Year 7 project I seem to remember writing about a cat. In rhyming couplets…

Somehow, I got away with it, and continued submitting poetry pieces, alongside prose and scripts, until my last university hand-in. Although poetry had been a big part of my degree work, I didn’t know how or why to keep going with poetry through graduate life. That was until I discovered this huge online world of young and active poets and creatives, keeping poetry very much fresh with communities such as #poetryisnotdead on Instagram.

It was through my growing obsession with the super talented Noor Unnahar and Areeba Siddique that I decided I wanted to document my scraps of poetry through an art journal of sorts. And so here began my Poetry Journal.

I should mention, before I send you onwards to read my attempts so far, that I am by no means an artist. Or remotely artistic. I can’t draw, or paint, or even cut in a straight line. I’m just, as they say, doing it for the ‘gram. And by that, I mean I needed to be able to share my words in a way that would still fit into the Instagram aesthetic. Hashtag blogger life.



SOME DAYS I STARE
AT THE MIRROR AND
LONG TO FEEL
SOMETHING
MORE
THAN
NO THING




i hide my tears
beneath the skin
but you still see them
wearing thin




my safe place isn’t
the space between your arms
or the right side of the bed

my safe place is
the passenger seat of your car
press the lock click
zip me up in this bubble
no one else can pop

we chat we laugh i cry we sing
and no one else can hear
a damn thing
unadulterated, unprecedented,
indelible us




YOU MAY HAVE FILLED
YOUR ICY WORDS OF TOUGH
LOVE WITH COURAGE, AND
STRENGTH TO SPRINKLE
ON THE ROOTS OF THEIR
AMBITIOUS BRANCHES YOU
ENVISION REACHING FOR
THE SKY.

BUT YOU WILL NOT KNOW THE
DELICACY OF THEIR SPARK
UNTIL YOUR HEAVY DROPLETS
ARE MET WITH BILLOWING
SMOKE, EXTINGUISHING LONELY
FLICKERS OF HOPE.




I’VE NEVER FELT
MORE
ALONE

THAN LYING
HERE NEXT
TO
YOU



As I share the pages of my Poetry Journal on the blog, I want to explore different aspects of the creative process in each post, so if you have any specific curiosities or questions, please let me know in the comments!

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