Saturday, February 26, 2011

And a poem evolves..."Inhale"

Inhale
Breathe deeply, look up at the sky

Listen
To the silence, scream with the crows
Then run

Spread
The wings of your imagination
Hold the pen
Caress the mind

In this corner of the world
My home
I sit in this light
As I tie a knot to the ground
To the sky
To the earth
And to the shadows of the mountains
The trees, rivers and rocks
To discover what lies ahead
Tracing a path to follow
Finding a mount to climb
A journey with no end.

Friday, February 11, 2011

So I wrote a Poem....

Yes. Last night's session of Creative Writing class was dedicated to poetry and Shauna (Paull, our teacher) said, "At the end of this class you will all have a poem. A 6 line poem". Well, we did.

We actually did two writing exercises. The first one, to just "get going" and I was a little skeptical at first, but it turned out kind of funny. OK. I wouldn't say that it's a poem, but it made me write for 5 minutes straight without putting the pen down -wait, I sipped some coffee as I had had a really long day so I needed caffeine at 8 pm- but still, I wrote for 5 minutes and came up with something relatively coherent. She suggested that we use "I wish", "I wonder", "Once" or "Now" to start a list of things, feelings, etc and that some lines could turn into something, some others would just get discarded. That's one of my problems. I have a hard time letting go of things that I've written. And sometimes, when I go back to first versions of something or a piece that I wrote that I might not have liked at the time I wrote it, I like it and something comes out of it, so my own lesson of the day: never throw out any words away.

The second exercise actually produced the poem. It is interesting -long to explain and I'm too tired tonight so won't go there- but I was frowning and groaning not thinking too much of it and all the other ladies in the class and Shauna liked it. She made a couple of tiny edits and when I read it again, it kind of got me. So here it is:

Breathe deeply, look up at the sky, listen to the silence, scream with the crows, then run...
forming the wings of our imagination, holding a pen, caressing the mind
but not in this corner, my home, I cannot see in this light
only to tie a knot again to the ground, to the sky, to the earth
and shadows of mountains, trees, rivers and rocks
to discover what lies ahead, a path to follow, a mount to climb
a journey with no end.

Friday, January 28, 2011

Fog (2)

Fog
A white wall
A curtain
A misty window
To apparent nothingness

What mysterious wind?
Brought it our way
And why is it so comfortable?
And decided to stay
To linger around
Our harbour, our lakes
Our mountains
Our forests
Our cities and roads
Lie down and rest

We stroll and the distance
Shortens its length
The fog is determined
To wrap around itself
And not let us see
And warn us about
Discovering beauty
In its uncertain haze
In its oblivious face

We breathe and we live
We walk right through it
And the fog seems to look at us
Not disturbed, not concerned
Keeps lazing around
Crowning the treetops
Drowning the light
And the darkness alike

That’s the fog
To onlookers
A capricious girl
A whimsical event

Written and revised between November and December, 2005.

I'm writing...

I'm just being extra critical of my writing and feeling uninspired and lame.
But that happens. And then I'll re-read things when I'm feeling better and I'll actually manage to improve a line or two and magic will happen.
In class, the memories are starting to scare me. I wrote something that made everyone sad and I was choking up when reading it! Something that happened over 30 years ago with a girl in my school. She was really mean to me. The bitch. Funny but I don't even remember the exact details and our teacher suggested to try and write about how I felt and how I handled and I guess, eventually, overcame the situation and I don't really remember. I just know that it hurt me and it affected me tremendously. The best part of it is that it made me confirm a decision about my belief system (or lack thereof) on my own. Totally independent from what I could have seen at home. Maybe I'll post it, but it definitely needs more work.
For now, I will post something about a recurring theme that I love writing about.
Fog.

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Storm

The stillness of the night

I can only hear
The raindrops sliding down
the window
The clock softly ticking
The wind swiftly blowing
mad
While the pen glides
Across the paper
Trying to catch up
With the thoughts of my mind
With the feelings of my heart…

And I do not know
How to shape some words
How to write some lines
So that they convey
The inner turmoil
Of the stormy night

And yet I do know
That on the road to being
A fully grown woman
An honourable human
Many of those words
Many of those lines
Will be blown away
Will be washed aside
And there should not be
No regrets
No simple good byes.

Written on January 2006.

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

I need some flowers

I need some flowers
To say to myself
I’m sorry
For the pain that comes
From not knowing
What to do
What to feel
Where to go
How to deal
With life and its infinite
Questions
Many times
With no answers

I need the bright yellow
Of a jolly sunflower
The sweet, caring scent
Of a rose or a lily
To comfort myself
To embrace my
So often forgotten
Kindness
So sadly ignored

I need a bouquet
That brightens my day
That fills in for the love
That seems to be gone
I can’t look at the darkness
Of a romance so lost
Or pretend anymore
That life is a challenge
That I need to work on
I promised
That I wouldn’t doubt
Myself or my strength
Yet I’m falling apart

I just need some flowers
To remind myself
That nature and colour
Are there everywhere
As starts and as endings
As always there is hope
A blooming peony
A tulip that folds
I need some flowers
To hold and behold.

Written on November 2005

November 2005

So I posted my first piece of the new Creative Writing Course ("On Solitude") and then two pieces written in November 2005 ("Renata, our Angel forever" and "Endless"). So I was looking for one more piece to share tonight and I keep going back to November '05, when apparently life made me quite prolific... at least in my writings. I can see that I was pouring my heart and even now when I read those pieces, I tear up a little. Writing is therapy. Paper and pen or computer and keyboard are such excellent tools to just let ourselves feel and open up our hearts and souls. This is one of the reasons why I do it. This is one of the reasons why I have decided to share...