As a writer and artist, you must always push yourself to evolve your craft. Whether it’s exploring different points of view, writing a screenplay, trying your hand as a playwright, or tackling a completely different genre, any exercise that “stretches” your skills is a way to open your mind.
In January when I launched my blog, I had never blogged before. It’s taken some getting used to, yet I’m enjoying the process of finding my voice. Lately, I’ve also been drawn to poetry, which has come forth through stream of consciousness writing that I sometimes fall into during my morning pages. Poetry to me feels very refreshing. I also believe that it’s helping to rejuvenate my overworked creative muscles.
Here’s something new: I’m also using poetry to prepare myself once again for writing my next novel, which will be another herculean effort. Like a runner prepares for a marathon, I am getting my mind and body in shape to take on yet another story that has been placed at my feet – one that I am called to write, just like the other two. Meanwhile, here’s my latest work of poetry. Please enjoy and thank you always for partaking in the musings of my mind.
Restless energy, you stir my soul,
In my cauldron, you madly swirl,
Bubbling up, your heat rises to my lungs,
Licking the crevices and filling the holes,
Hollowing my breath,
My mind a convulsion of being,
The fibers tighten and fray at the sides,
Anxiety, you roll upon me,
Snapping my brittle bones under your weight,
You crush me, mashing my flesh,
Draining my blood,
Stealing my sight,
A knife, you rip through my nerves,
Darkness swallows me,
Draining all hope from my soul,
You call this a life? Count me out,
Unlock the steel trap that tears my flesh,
Splinters my bones,
Infiltrates my mind,
Leaves me for dead,
So I ask and it is done,
I become death and death becomes me,
Like old, tattered clothes, I shed my shell,
I am a gush of wind whistling through the trees,
Sailing through the air,
Away from the darkness that once smothered my soul,
A bird on a wing,
A breeze through your hair,
A passing presence, drawing your gaze,
Invisible I am to your mortal eyes,
A figure in the mist, I graze your ear,
A whisper that is no whisper at all,
An inclination, an idea, a once-thought-of phrase,
Settling in, I store myself away,
Prodding you gently,
In a lucid dream.
So, what did you think? How did it make you feel? Do you write poetry? Let me know!
In case you missed it, here’s another poem called Stumblings On.