My poems follow themes and the themes follow days and moods

Last night I yearned,

This night I loved – that love was directed at myself and sprung from feeling a little vulnerable and finally being able to have a hot bath after weeks of cold water.

I wrote 18 poems on the first night,

I wrote about 4 just now.

Because I feel the love for myself tonight, I’m letting myself sleep 14 poems early.

It’s been nearly 6 months

It’s been almost 6 months since I started posting on here – and I just thought I’d do a little post to mark it.

I still love doing this – it’s one of the only things I genuinely enjoy, as bleak as that sounds, haha.

But, I’m still amazed about how different the writing experience can be day to day and post to post.

Sometimes I write so much in a day, that I feel awkward posting everything I’ve written and have to let them bleed out gently over the next few days or weeks, and other days the mine is empty and I either don’t touch this at all, or I edit something I’ve done previously.

I wrote a 100 and odd word poem in about 15 minutes this afternoon (it is a bit of a silly one mind, just something sort of playing with rhyme, with a nursery rhyme sort of rhythm), but this morning I was thinking today was gonna be one of those days where I just feel like the blankest blank as soon as I open my laptop. I also had an idea for a (very) short story, that I wrote the first part of whilst squeezed in the dusty crevice between my bed and the wall.

Part of me feels like I should go back and attend to previous work, I’ve started that I intended to follow up, but haven’t quite got round to. (e.g. https://headdome.wordpress.com/2017/04/28/experience-what-ive-learnt/)

I’m not entirely sure what’s stopping me. I feel like I’m always lured in by the freshness of starting something new and clicking on that “Write” button.

(NB – I’ve just followed that link and realised part of what might be stopping me – just the fact that I’m mildly embarrassed by what past me has written/ how I’ve worded certain things. I don’t think that’s helping, because I feel reluctant to go back to something that makes me cringe even the tiniest bit.)

Maybe it would help if I found the previous parts, printed them off and bashed down some ideas by hand, instead of relying so comfortably on my laptop and what I can pull out of my head. I definitely feel like editing and annotating comes more naturally when I can scribble all over the page in different colours and things.

The other post that I feel has slightly got away from me is “NPC” – which was supposed to be a short story, but, at the moment, is just in the form of one actual post and one sort of side post which is a poem of a few of my notes on it compiled. I also have a couple of locked essays in my Drafts folder: one’s an unfinished reading of one of my favourite musicals and the others have escaped my memory at the moment, haha – must be good then, eh?

I feel like I’m learning all the time and I love the pool of work I’m exposed to here, if you’re reading this, thanks for your time :). Again, as with most of my prose posts/ notes on my poems, I’m not entirely sure of the purpose of this, except for a bit of a record of my thinking I suppose. Not everything has to have a proper purpose, right? And this is my space to write, so I should probably stop second-guessing myself, as I come to the close of the final paragraph liiiike this. (full stop.)

I’m off to sleep now :). Night :).

H

Sentences stacked on top of each other, talking about why I do this.

It’s late, but I just thought I’d reflect on why I’m doing this – why I do this blog I mean. I really appreciate having a place to put my thoughts, and to have a reason to have a creative outlet, it feels really freeing to write here. I sometimes used to feel like it was a waste to write things just for them to sit around totally unread and untouched in messy notebooks. I find it really satisfying to have an idea and then write a poem, type it up here and then see it all neat and in black and white on my screen, all together with others.

I’m really happy I decided to start properly posting and sharing something, I’ve grown in confidence in the months I’ve been writing here and I feel a little buzz whenever that orange dot comes up on the bell in the corner and I know someone’s interacted with me or with what I’ve done in some way.

This feels like a really supportive place, where a new writer’s confidence has a chance to grow. I don’t have to feel too nervous about commenting on other people’s posts or about posting my own and that gladdens me. Other parts of the internet can often seem so callous and frightening for people, particularly for someone as sensitive and easily agitated as me, considering my current mental health position as someone with PTSD and the self-doubt and self-worth issues that surround that for me.

I think it’s hard to tell whether my writing has actually improved since I started, just because I write so much now, whereas before I started this blog I only wrote occasionally. I’m not really sure how to compare poems that I posted early on, that had been sitting around in folders on the computer for months/years and I threw out there worriedly, to the ones I write now, which, for the most part, are not dwelled on nearly as much, as I grow in confidence and shrug off my inhibitions.

I feel like I’ve become a lot more playful in tone, but maybe some of my more recent poems might lack the emotive nature of my earlier work. The earlier poems I wrote tended to be more confessional and autobiographical, some of my more vivid memories written down – but now, I practice escapism a little more and tend to enjoy experimenting with imagery and just seeing what comes into my head when I sit down to write.

Anyway, I think that’s quite long enough, and I’ll try and publish this with as little restraint and fear as I have when posting most of my poems now, although I find prose posts like these considerably more revealing, with fewer places to hide – and therefore I’m more hesitant to press “Publish”, but I’m doing it anyway.

H

 

 

I love myself – I keep telling myself that, I think it helps

I think I’m gonna fix my computer

or try.

The webcam’s broken,

I’ll read my poems to the camera and feel like a movie star,

A bland movie star with a northern accent.

“Nice teeth movie star”,

“Well thanks, my love.”

I wasn’t allowed braces coz they weren’t bad enough so shut your damn mouth.

Nah, I’m joking – I’m alright.

I might let my hair grow out a bit first though, I’ve just had it cut and I look like a budgie that’s just had a sock thrown at it.