I wrote this poem a few weeks ago, but it didn’t seem right at the time, so I never posted it. I came back to it tonight and found that all it needed was a new title, a couple of word changes, and one line added in. It feels like a whole new poem now. So weird how that happens.
The bittersweet truth of struggle is that it serves as unending inspiration for creativity. The beauty of poetry is that it serves as an outlet for struggle. The sadness of poetry is that it is eternal, which means the struggle becomes entombed in history. I’ve been writing a lot lately, thankful for the inspiration but fighting the sadness of it.
Thank you for reading 🙂
A piece of profound artwork has an incredible ability to stick its hands in our brains and pull out our deepest secrets, emotions, and stories. Great art also seems to chant the words “buy me” in an angelic chorus. Most of the time I can’t afford it, but little splurges have been known to happen. When my impulses get the better of me, I have to rearrange the art I have hanging on my walls to find the perfect spot to showcase its majesty. Has anyone else experienced this?
Tonight I had an impromptu date with my dad. The style of this poem is a little different than my usual, but it was all inspired in the moment.
I should be in bed by now, but I just couldn’t sleep without writing this poem. Now that it’s done, I bid you goodnight…
It’s amazing how the stories in our brains can seem so different than what everyone else sees. We all have our own realities. Only you know your truth. Love anyway.
Just appreciating the little things and trying to keep life from passing by too quickly.
I am thankful for today 🙂
This morning I read through the past 2 years of poems I’ve posted on here. It didn’t take long since my consistency with posting has wavered. I’d forgotten about most of them but it took only seconds to remember where I’d been when I wrote them and what emotions were controlling my pen at the time. It’s been a hell of a couple years. I shunned dating, moved back in with my parents, fell in love, had my heart broken, hated life, went through a couple different jobs and two surgeries, started grad school, lost myself, rediscovered forgotten passions, found myself again, loved life, remembered what it felt like to have a crush on someone and how painful unrequited lust can be. I’ve watched friends and family marry, move away, and follow their dreams while others have struggled through breakups. I’ve questioned my choices and realized that I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. I know one thing though, I feel home when I’m writing.
Thanks for sticking with me through it all.
Honesty hidden in poetry.
I wish time would pause.
Happy it’s Friday 🙂
I swear I’m not cynical about everything in my life!