Friday, July 25, 2014

Poetry or Not; It's All About the Process

As  a teenager, during my senior year of highschool, a teacher noticed that I was having a difficult time.  So much so that she was immensely concerned about me and referred me to a counselor.

During my counseling I was asked to write a letter to my grandmother.  She had passed when I was ten, but it was a pivitol moment in my life and I was still struggling with the loss more than seven years later.

I felt funny writing a letter that would never get mailed so I wrote a poem.  After that, writing poems was how I dealt with life.  I have more than 75 poems dating back to when I was a teenager through my 20s.  Life took over then and I haven't written much since.

Recently I realized that journaling wasn't getting the crap out.  More often than not it was a random menu of insignificant things with a huge serving of self-loathing for desert.  My meanderings through morning pages were often repetitive.  So...last week I decided to try and write a poem.  I've written three more since and have been reminded, good or bad, the process of trying to write it out in some sort of pattern with a rhyme or two really helps me to move through the crappiness and get to more positive, self-loving thoughts.

WANDER IN DREAMS

what happened to the dreams you dreamt as a child
what happened to your joy and childlike smile
when did it all get buried and lost in the unknown
when did you stop believing in yourself and lose hope?

so you can't remember what it is like
to dream or imagine an incredible life
they told you that dreams do not come true
and your life had no value bestowed upon you

but dreams do come true
you just have to believe
and work and wander and gather like leaves
it isn't too late
you're never too old
to define the dreams hidden in your soul

take off that steel cloak rusted with doubt
you are worthy and valued and more than enough
wander about the possibility of dreams
spread your wings wide with curiosity
flap them freely in the air
though you may falter and they may sneer

let people stare
let them snicker and point
they'll be the ones trapped
in conformity's choke

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