poetry about poetry

December 30, 2024

/ HJ / Leave a comment

the poetry is stilted
today

usually, if i get distracted
i catch myself staring off into space
for minutes
before i look back at my
half-finished poem

and then i take a moment to figure out
if i can reasonably get back into it
or not

but there is a moment
between realizing i’ve lost my concentration
and trying to get it back
that i know so well

and i keep having that moment
that feeling
without the minutes of staring off into nothingness

like my brain has decided it cannot concentrate
on even one poem this morning
and instead i must shatter my attention
into a million tiny bits
and hopefully i can repair them
into something resembling
a poem

December 1, 2023

/ HJ / Leave a comment

i see the world
through a poet’s eyes,
but also through the eyes
of depression
of anxiety
of ennui
of desperation
of overthinking
of too much knowledge
and not enough power,
but also through the eyes
of someone distinctly
of this century
this millennium
this time period —
speaking in meme
and shorthand
and writing all of my poetry
via computer keys and screen
and distracting myself with television
and video games
and podcasts
and anything to drown out
the sadness/despair/awareness
that a poet’s sense
sends/
that a poet’s eyes
see

July 19, 2023

/ HJ / Leave a comment

ever write poetry
with a rhyme scheme in your mind
from an un-written line,
one you decided wasn’t worth the fight/
the force of putting it in,
but the next line rhymes so fittingly
that you insert it just so —
and when you read the flow
you still speak it as though
that first line is still there
(you just don’t say it out loud)
and it all fits together
with phrases in your mind —
and you wonder
if a reader
who isn’t just you
could feel that it flows,
even though the flow
may not be as obvious
as it is to you…

anyone else do that too?

July 5, 2023

/ HJ / Leave a comment

the interesting thing
about this way of writing
poetry
(and prose, i suppose)
is that flowing from the fingertips
is actually the most apt analogy—
i don’t sit here
pondering each line
especially coming up with each
rhyme
instead i’m writing
and writing
and typing as the words come to me
sometimes before even
i have any sort of language inside my mind
but the words keep flowing/
like little rivers from brain/
to my hands/
crafting a poem
a story
a something
and not knowing if it’s good or not
but at least
knowing
that it
flows

June 25, 2023

/ HJ / Leave a comment

started three different poems
and the scheme has led me
to perfect rhymes every time
(whether i’ve chosen to write down that path
is another story entirely)
and i feel like
rhyming poetry
is no longer
my own
it is taken over
by expectation
and rules
and it’s no longer my own
it’s no longer my own
(but is a poem
ever
anything to own?)

June 3, 2023

/ HJ / Leave a comment

if only i could put all my hobbies
and helpfuls
into one basket of poetry—
the focus that comes from embroidery,
the loss of time and self
and feeling of fullness of art
of acting,
the power
and grace
of pulling one’s own body weight
up to an aerial apparatus
and seeing the whole room
spin
just this side of uncontrollably
around me,
and the expression
of my deepest most inner
mind
in a single poem
(or two)
(or three)

this is how you get to know me.

May 31, 2023

/ HJ / Leave a comment

the mornings i have something to say
but really only the concept at hand
sans the ability to say it
are the weirdest mornings for me—
i can glance around
and be inspired
by the puppy
or the pillows surrounding me
or the music pounding itself
into the beats of each
heart
thump
thump
thump
but i won’t ever be satisfied
with the potential
when i know a full universe of poetry
is hiding somewhere inside of me
if i could only
access it
find the key
to my very being
it would come spilling
drip, stream, rushing
pushing poems upon poems
with each press of my pulse
on a lettered key

but i feel lost
i feel in the dark in my own soul
i feel like i may never know
my inside insights
in full…