writing about writing

December 29, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

this morning
the pages don’t flow
they flitter
glitter shimmering past my peripheral
if i follow the train of thought
i want
i’ll be leaving this subject matter behind
but what is it i’m trying to find?

am i aiming for polish
for pristine
for perfection
or could it be
the messy/testing/trying out
glitter flittering in and out
dopamine hitting my starved system
will fill it far more than
niceness served for nicety’s sake

who am i kidding?

i am a perfectionist and a completionist
i can aim for both at once
it doesn’t matter that that would require
a physically impossible arrow
more time in the day than is there now
legitimately anything different than what i bear
but now
i can admit my silly ways
my impossible aims
and even if i still want what i literally cannot have
at least i know it
and that’s progress

right?

December 27, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

i know the morning
is here for me
to delve into my
psychology
and think through things
as they may or may not be

but right now it feels
more like a chore
more like a bore
score none and no more
the act of writing
of poetizing
less than appetizing
and i can’t help but feel
like a
fraud

~~~

one more poem
one more verse
simply to make me feel
like i didn’t just waste
an entire block of my morn
writing stupid rhyming poetry
for nothing
for naught
for no one but me

(that’s the only person
actually
for whom this
poetry)

~~~

and writing
as me
as my own self
is so odd
because i’ve spent so much of my life
not knowing
(or straight up hiding)
who i truly was
that i’m uncertain
i’d even know
for sure
now

December 23, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

how does one get
better
at poetry?

is it all about alliterations
and internal rhyme
and the thousands of metaphors
that have already been primed
to be shared, to be taken, to be overused
to the point of cliche
to say i want to be a poet
is not to mean i want to spoon-feed you stanzas of
love
as a beautiful weed
or churn out odes to
the moon
(though our lunar satellite is pretty cool)
but i digress
i must confess
my digression into this poem was nothing more than a question
not a contemplation of how i am the best
(my goodness, i know i’m not the best)
but i want to know—
for the poems that i read
and hear
that flow
and hit me right here
(that’s my heart, in case you aren’t watching)
they speak of the human condition
universal language
of love, joy, pain, suffering
maybe one day i could write
as well as
Amanda Gorman
Angel Nafis
Staceyann Chin
Audre Lorde
(hah
i remember a time the only poets i knew
were crusty old men
and look at me now,
just off the top of my head
badass black femme poets whom i’ve read
rather recently
and i want to imbibe more
more cultures
more languages
more experiences
because—
and here it is
the point i was trying to make—
i think
to be a better poet
you must have experiences
life experiences
living
breathing
interacting with people
experiencing all this world has to offer
this universe
and so
in conclusion
i guess i should go
live
more?
)

December 18, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

i keep having ideas
good ideas
great fucking ideas
for poems
and essays
and thought pieces
when i’m on the train
when i’m out walking post-rain
when i don’t have my computer with me
and my words come faster than a notebook would suit me
so i just leave it dormant
in my head
hoping against hope
that it’ll all be there again
when i have my things/solitude/words/supplies
but it’s all lies
i know the words are there
and the concept needs to be shared
i’m just
plain
scared.

December 16, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

i have
so many
so much
works
words
on the page
inside the screen
swimming through my head
it’s a wonder
i haven’t lost
all sense
and sensibility
awareness
and awakeness
sanity
and sanitary
self-hood
selfishness
would be writing
only about me
(oops)
but i guess
it’s better
than not having art
around
everywhere

right?

December 15, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

this poetry blog
has become my respite
my sanctuary
from my own perfectionism
and putting too much pressure on myself
in most (if not all other) things

but how do i take the lessons learned
here
and bring them with me
everywhere?

December 14, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

i don’t really know
what i’m writing this morning
i just know
i wish i had
some
dopamine/serotonin/anything
to keep me company
through this season

~~~

is my
not having
an up-to-date phone
just a reminiscence of being
four versions out of date
in my aol/internet service
and therefore
a form of
comfort?

~~~

writing poems
and hearing the rhymes
that didn’t make it in
but somehow
making the poem
fuller
is a weird sort of poet magic

December 10, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

write fast
low batt
oh no
your little arms are shaking
quaking in your shoeless boots
how long till the computer shuts down
could be two seconds
could be ten minutes
who knows
who knows

~~~

is my writing any good?
i ask in a poem
no one
will probably ever see
but me

~~~

the feels
are getting to me–
the random flashes of memory,
the stop-me-in-my-tracks because
a song reminds me of
a random day i had once
so so long ago
but it won’t leave my head–

why can’t i move on?
be the person i want to be?
connect with the child i used to be
without this inner teen crashing the party
every time i try to heal?

(i know,
i know,
it’s because i need to heal
the adolescent
as well)

December 7, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

i write
every morning
to warm up my brain

i write
every morning
to feel a little more awake

i write
every morning
to get the creative juices flowing

i write
every morning
to feel like i’ve accomplished something

i write
every morning
because morning is when i’m at my best

i write
every morning
to continue a streak
because once i set my mind to something
i accomplish it
and i vowed to write every morning
and so i’ll write
every morning
until i feel
i’ve succeeded

(and then maybe move on
to the next hyper-fixation)