Poems old and new

(Reminder- myself and 2 other artists are doing a Twitter giveaway til 5/11, to enter and possibly win all of this amazing art go to - https://twitter.com/Real_Stars24/status/1116397162315821056 ) https://twitter.com/Real_Stars24/status/1116397162315821056https://twitter.com/Real_Stars24/status/1116397162315821056 )ht









To preface, I want to share the long term goals I made for this year- begin promoting and selling my art after spending the holidays cranking out finished pieces, return to weekly blogging, release my book and get more serious about sharing my poetry.

Recently I started going to a poetry slam and for the first time, read a poem of mine aloud to other humans that I hadn't written shoddily for a high school project. Going to the weekly slams and the poetry workshops been amazing and really helping with my social anxiety. Although, maybe not my back and shoulders if I continue adding more books to my bag.

My book (or chapbook, I don't exactly know what it is yet) is poems from 2010-2018, and all but one were written in my usual way, which is to not intend to write a poem but have it suddenly pop into my head, fully written, and I have to scramble for a pen and paper before it's lost forever. 
It's usually in response to my emotions and is a big part of how I deal with things.

After meeting some poets doing the 30 for 30 (what's that? I'm still not 100% certain on the origin but many poets I've met are writing 30 poems in 30 days for the month of April, which is National Poetry Month! Here is a site I found with rules but I'm not sure if it's the one any of the poets I met have been following-  http://3030poetry.com) I was marveling to my fiance at the idea of being able to sit down and intentionally write a poem, every day.

I think he was already on a roll being proud of me for reading my poem and having encouraged me enough to actually go there, and his belief in me that I clearly don't have spurred him to challenge me to write a poem to share by the next week's slam.

WHAT IS HE DOING TO ME.

So, I told him it would never happen, and I stewed on it, and put it aside but sort of stewed on it still because that's how my anxiety works. 
And slowly, bits and pieces and ideas started to come to mind but nothing fully formed. I scribbled it down, changing things and taking them out. When I was finished, I looked over the finished poem and it surprised me by not being so terrible. Of course, this made me furious with my fiance.

HOW DARE HE BE RIGHT ABOUT ME.

I let him know of his grievous offense and he grinned like he'd eaten the moon. Jerk.
Seeing as I'd scribbled the poem on the back of a drawing, he also took me to get a new leatherette journal to write my new poems in. Someday I dream of having all my journals and sketchbooks be bound and covered in stickers. I only had these 2 to use, but plan on using any birthday money I get for buying art to get some stickers.

(Having 1 greenpeace sticker does not mean I am fine with their actions in Peru in 2014 but instead does mean that the organization has tons of helpful info on their website about taking sustainable action and if you judge me for a sticker I'll take that as a warning that you're not worth getting to know. I haven't been yet online but got some funny looks in person from people I wonder would rather have no ecological protection groups at all)

I'm always on the hunt for stickers and taking recommendations on Twitter. I came across the witchy stickers from dovahviing.storenvy.com and I'm in love!! I'm going to order a set and show you all as soon as they come in.

This is the poem I wrote! So much wite out, scribbling over, changing things. The scribbled out bit I changed just before reading it aloud actually. That's the part I'd reworked the most, originally using the word "purge" but I didn't want to worry about triggering anyone at the slam, so I took some time and changed it to "evacuate" and then "eliminate", which I liked the raw and gritty feel of.

But looking it over in my head, it seemed too similar to another poem I'd heard recently and even though it wasn't intentionally taken from it, I wanted it to be something that felt 100% natural.

It's pretty messy on paper and if it's hard to make out, here's the full poem typed out- 


This is a poem I wrote on purpose
Which sounds simple, even standard.
But clearly in this way, again, I haven't fit that standard.

I watch, jealous,
and listen to words that sound like
they were written out of interest, or purpose,
not some raw possessive need.

I wish I could write into existence
rosy fingered dawns,
mysteries and histories.
Not shedding unsung words like an upheaval-
A base and primal urge for release.
It's why I'm far from being a writer

Perhaps just the artist I started as,
haunted and directed by some creative spirit
with unfinished business

I joke but I knew her,
you can ask but you really should have seen her.

It's like my struggle to fit in,
in this world, in a body,
when it seems to be the story that
if you don't feel right one wat there might
be some other way that fits you.

But every name and game and suit feels wrong.
Everything I try feels forced and faked unless
I stop trying to be one or the other

and become myself naturally,
unapologetically





And that's the post for this week! Thanks for reading :)