August 24, 2022

sometimes
creativity
just needs a
change of scenery—
a trip to the coffee shop
or to a whole new continent
but sometimes, a simple switch
from table to couch
is all that was needed

~~~

interesting—

i pride myself on variety
on variating my verbs and adjectives
and nouns
too;
repeated words and phrases
(unless used in threes or themes)
cause me such duress
that half my writing time is spent
searching
for the
perfect
word
in thesauruses
and dictionaries
online—
trying to continue the thought
but include intentional alliteration
without the clumsiness of
a word
repeated—
to me that is the mark of a novice
or just a messy writer
(maybe not when others do it,
but definitely when it shows up in my work)

but
the last few days, i’ve had
repeated words
a couple of same-phrases
sitting in close proximity
in one poem
without the third to make it a theme
and i think my soul is experimenting with
imperfection
with finding a simple/correct phrase
and sticking to it—
embracing
the words my mind came up with in the moment
and going with it

and seeing what comes of it.

~~~

i’m writing
and writing
and writing down
the thoughts as they come
the words as they crown
(is that rhyme too obvious?
that metaphor too gross?
or perhaps just too femme-y
for male-bodied bros?)
but my intention
for this one poem
is simply to keep going
keep writing
keep growing
keep feeding the fire
and the belly of desire
to write words forever
(or at least until my word count
inspires
an ending)

August 21, 2022

words melt in my mind
from time to time
thinking them in dusk
in witching hour wants
and needing to write them out
but feeling like that would
break the spell
to spell out too much
to identify in analytic hours
so they simply
melt
become part of me
where they always were
to begin with
it seems

and maybe that’s the lesson
that’s to be earned and learned:
the words neither exist outside of me
nor are fully lost internally
they’re always there with me
as is my power
my connection
my rhythm and rhyme scheme and
spirituality
it just takes a little bit longer for myself
to see.

for where are these words and patterns
and rhymes and smatterings
of slammings be coming from
if not
inside?

July 30, 2022

does writing
get easier
the more i do it?

no.

does it at least get
more
intuitive?

no.

ok, but does it
seem like
it’s part of me,
like i could finally call myself
a ‘writer’
after writing
every single morning
since early 2020/
after finishing
a first draft
of a whole novel/
after keeping up
with this
daily poetry blog
for 470+ days?

kind of…?

June 27, 2022

To Do
Today:
An Experiment;

let’s warm up a little
with this Morning Poetry
but
let the majority of the writing happen
later
after breakfast
after naps
when the day is fully itself
and i feel myself too.
maybe then inspiration can be
things happening
my feelings
my emotions
my thoughts
not just
‘i’m so tired’
or
‘i want to be able to write’

maybe
possibly
this could be
my way in.

June 8, 2022

i’ve been reading a book
about great poet-scientists
of the last few centuries,
and within these last few chapters of the book
the author (and voices from the past)
have assessed
that the greatest authors–
the greatest poets
are ones
who are
open
and honest
with their
emotion

and i think i am not yet there.

my poetry is very head-y.
most poems appear in my head
as something like
‘i think’
not at all
‘i feel’

and maybe that is my access to my emotions
[head to heart to body]
and, although i’d like to get there someday,
i really don’t think i am quite there
yet

even my depression
is very thought-based;
a reaction to an over-thinking mind
that won’t shut up about
all the pains and sufferings in the world
and how i could do something about it
if only i were as powerful as i
thought myself to be

so i’m not yet there
emotionally
in my poetry,
but someday
i may be

and when that happens,
y’all had better look out
(because i’ve had so much practice
with these mind-based poems of mine,
my emotion-based art will be
so great)

…(or, watch, it’ll read
like a three-
year-old
wrote it)
(but that’ll be ok
because it will be mine.
and it will
it will
it will be
honest)

June 6, 2022

once again
i am stuck
pondering
what in the world
i’d thought of
to write
last night
when this morning
my brain
doesn’t seem to light
up
with any words
or concepts
or phrases
just stages
of grief
over lost
concepts

June 3, 2022

i [might] have
hit the point
where my body of work is
Prolific
[but quantity doesn’t indicate quality]
[though practice makes perfect—
or
at the very least permanent—]

and is it actually
Prolific
if i am the only one
aware
of it all?

~~~

400+ days of writing
poetry
every morning

a solid amount of those mornings
(like this very one)
Three-Poem-Days
and even more housing
multiple drafts of multiple poems
not yet seen by
The Internet

but if i’m simply writing free-form/
stream of consciousness/
‘do it but don’t worry about it’
kinds of things,
churning
but not editing/
or revising/
or analyzing/
or anything of the sort

does that not become
at some point
Junk?

~~~

my greatest poem
within this experiment
was seen by more people
but has not been posted here.

a slam poem written
from a prompt
intended for a monologue
(originally from a spell)

i learned (from that poem) that prompts are friends
and a one-week due-date
with daily revisions
and one solid subject matter
are useful in my creative process

i am actively proud of that poem
and i want to write more like it
(with the passion/
and verse/
and poetical devices/
and wholeness)
so why do i not
actively
seek out
prompts,
nor let myself
take time
to edit
any of these
anymore?

June 2, 2022

poems pulsating
through my mind
as i find
myself
at that coast of consciousness
trying to remember
the words as they came together
the alliteration and rhyme
after so much time
asleep

and in the morning
nothing
ever
comes to me.

May 28, 2022

wow.

pavlovian response to
lofi music playing:

immediate urge to poetry.

~~~

some days
(most days)
i need the poetry-writing to wake me up
(the coffee is simply comfort-waking
now
rather than an actual stimulant)

but then
some days
(rarely)
(but it does happen)
i need the coffee/the doing/the something
in order to wake myself up
before
i start to write the poetry.

today was one of the latter
days

~~~

a reference?
a reference only my spouse and i will understand?
a reference that might simply be an inside joke in poetry-form?

it’s more likely than you’d think!