My newest digital landscape using my Graphics Tablet
Deep thoughts end me up in a random place. I have always had a passion for poetry…Writing it, reading it, studying it. I just really love poetry. I generally don’t like following the rules of poetry because I feel like that makes it harder to express what I want to say…but I still know many of them. I can tell you the rules off of the top of my head for several differing forms. I think that is why I feel most at home on Tumblr of all of the social media…it feels like poetry.
I found this on tumblr earlier…
It feels like truth…I end up shitposting on Facebook, I don’t really do much with Insta or Deviant…though I wish I could. I just end up feeling awkward. My anxiety eats at my posting on Tiktok. Discord I use for Fae Corps…We try to be open but most don’t even know how to use discord much less see it as a viable social platform.
I find it so hard to share my passions for poetry…because it ends up being such a niche passion. So few actually like it. I feel like it is because it was explained poorly in high school and no one takes the time to learn about it past that.. so many see poetry as only for love…Poetry is pure emotion…it is the heart of the poet spilled onto the page…Many people don’t process emotion well.
I think I want to post a different poem by a different poet everyday in November…as well as trying to post my own PAD challenge Results.(Poem A Day)..However it means that I am likely not going to do my normal posts during November. I decided not to have Serena do NaNoWrimo this year as I am incredibly busy. I am prepping Fae Corps’s Children’s books…and doing the PAD Challenge. I also have day to day life.
The other Poets I can Schedule ahead, and that will help. I really want to have you all see some of the amazing poems I have read.
The title of the post is thought catching, Isn’t it. I finished writing Handprints on my soul today. I was trying to decide how to announce it, and the Release date – November 18th… On the blog and I ended up joking that it was the end of an era…and it just seemed appropriate. Each of the volumes feel like a section of my life…
So the era of Handprints is over. I looked through the covers and I think the next general volume will be Thoughtcicles. When I woke this morning I found it was cold. We are at the very beginning of fall. I love fall, but I don’t really like the cold. I feel like I have more trouble thinking in the cold. Since I will be starting to write this in colder weather I feel like it is appropriate.
I will be over the next few weeks starting the marketing for Handprints, alongside Not another Danny…and the other stuff that Fae Corps is releasing. But for today…Here is the last poem in Handprints on my soul.
The last poem. Literally. And somehow… I see eternity.
I am five poems away from finishing The volume Handprints on my soul…and I am struggling with my writing…Not because I am unable – obviously. I just have too many topics and too many thoughts… so many that I have been fighting Insomnia. The end of a volume is always an anxious time for me. It is when I question my writing. It is when I question my motives. It is when I question my value…
Yesterday I answered a poem with a poem. The first poem was written by someone I love very much. A child I had given up at birth because I felt myself in a poor position to care for them. The child is now grown and I am amazed by the similarity they have to me. Also a talented poet, they posted one to their Facebook page. I have in the past found it fun to respond to poets with poetry…A slightly odd behavior perhaps but I find it a fun challenge. (I have been specifically responding to haikus written by my friend, on his Facebook feed In haiku because I find the syllable count to be challenging.) So I did not think twice to do the same with my child. Their reaction surprised me.
They said that they would never be as good as I am. I responded that they already were. In some ways that is such a lie. I see their poetry as better than my own. I see everyone who writes as better than my own. I am incredibly biased. I will never stop seeing the flaws in what I write. Though I imagine that most authors do the same. The problem is though I have some days where my writing is brilliance…I also have the days where putting more than one word on paper feels impossible.
I have days that I feel like I am too insane to be allowed to speak – much less use my voice to put something into this world that will be around for an indeterminate amount of time. (That is what writing is you realize? Passing your thoughts into the hazy future for the random person to read.) And I end up feeding the darkness of those days with my own self doubt and anxiety. That is why I refuse to be jealous of other writers or artists. Why I just judge my work and no one elses (unless I am editing their work which is when I am trying to help them get it to a state of technical perfection…) I shy away from people who cannot understand that I do not require judgement or want to be around jealousy. Those things make me harder on me. Instead I need honesty and just simply to be accepted for who I am.
Today I am a poet. I am strange and I am quiet. I am introvert. I am a writer. I am an explorer. Who are you?
Ps I also seem to update the blog more at the end of a volume…mostly because as I stated…This is when I am questioning myself more so I end up coming here with the random thoughts of am I good enough…knowing that I will never hear the answer I am needing to here.
Pattimouse 