Now, I am not in a frame of mind where I want to leave anyone right now – I am not depressed, I am not suicidal today, I am not hinting at any discomforts emotionally at all; yet despite this, today has been a day where poetically, I cannot help but write about relationships ending, leaving a former life etc. and this is just a fluke… or is it? Am I going through some kind of subconscious rebirth? Is this the start of a midlife crisis? I haven’t a clue, but currently I think I am very happy with the people who are in my life.
A lot of my poems are based on my past, particularly my childhood. But the ones I have written today are largely focusing on sexual relationships that are coming to a close, yet I am not in this situation – though I have been once. But the words in the poems would have been different surely? As I never left them, they didn’t leave me for the reasons I wrote about today, so where these poems came from is a mystery to me.
Another thing is I have written two poems today and both of those poems have a particular sentence in common “It’s not that I don’t love you”, now, I have had this said to me on many occasions before, when I was about to be dumped – the excuses that came after were varied.
Sometimes a writer can be in a frame of mind to write about something they have never experienced and usually I have been told that this is wrong – you should always write about what you know in order to sound authentic. So let me know if you think it sounds authentic enough for a person who has never experienced what I wrote about in the two poems I will post later in the week called “It’s not that I don’t love you” and “It’s not that I don’t love you 2”.
Thank you for reading
Tag Archives: emotional
Locked in cold stone walls
Shut away and forgotten
Forbidden to live a life
By those who are mean and rotten
Lied about by your torturer
Hissed at by their friends
A mystery to others
Yet no one helps you mend
People accuse you of being the trouble
People accuse you of being bad
Yet nobody knows that the woman they love
Is evil and nasty and mad
Some have seen the truth, a glimpse
But unsure, they look on
And eventually I run away again
And hope that I can belong
But away I went and then there was more
Trouble and lies and hate
But the people who witness the things going on
Think it is I who has caused this fate
They won’t be told that someone they like
Have two sides to their personality
Instead they decide to add to my torment
Thinking they are defending their mother, naturally
But they don’t remember I am not the only one
She has kept in the dark and cold
I am one of three and she hates two
But the oldest one, he never knew
He won’t accept the truth
My father is lovely and it pains me to say
I might never get to see him again
Because she rules him, and he won’t come
To visit me and his grandson
Because she lies to all around, that she gives him a choice to come around
But she doesn’t you see, the truth is this
She would rant and she would spit
If he came knocking at my door
So until she dies, I’ll see him no more
My life is like a tornado
It’s been turned upside down, inside out and it’s spinning round and round
Like my mind, it’s unstable, insecure and unsound
Nothing can quite help it – nothing can calm it down
I’m just whizzing around doing nothing, someone make it stop, and someone hold me down
I skip from this to that, my mind’s just going to rot
I skit from thing to thing and most things I’ve forgot
I dance from one thought to the next; I’m trying to catch my thoughts with broken nets
But get this – I can’t slow it down, most things I’ve forgotten before I can write them down
My thoughts move too fast for me, it’s like they’re scared of me, they flee
And I just sit wondering… what the fuck just happened to me?
I am trapped in a loveless world
When will my chains start to unfurl?
I feel though I’m here for eternity
Lost within a hapless sea
I have read somewhere in the past, that you are what you read and I believe that. The more I read the more defined my tastes have become, my skills, my genre leanings and this influences my writing and art.
With each good book I learn how I want to write and what I want to write about.
With each bad book I read, I learn how I do not want to write and what I dislike.
I do not believe that as a writer you must write things outside of your comfort zone, I believe you should be comfortable with what you are writing – although on an emotional matter, that’s quite different. You must write outside of your emotional comfort zone if you wish to write fear, pain and heartbreak effectively, unfortunately that means opening up your old wounds.
A lot of the time, I like to write about horror, trauma etc. and each time I do, I open up real and old wounds, this is why I often become quiet as a writer and have prolonged periods of not writing, whilst I emotionally recuperate.
I was once told that writers and artists generally go mad after a time and I believe it, we send ourselves mad for our art and stories because we are constantly reliving the horrors of our past for your entertainment and as a collective, we seldom are known or recognized for it.
I am not moaning about my lack of recognition as a writer and artist, because personally I think that’s my own fault. I think I am generally a lazy person and have not bothered to find myself a publisher or to advertise my work very much over the years at all. On the one occasion I did contact a publisher to see whether or not they liked an idea of mine, I was lucky enough to get a letter back within three weeks, but this terrified me, because they loved what I sent them and praised me highly for it; I never contacted them again, I was worried about becoming famous and at the time I was young and didn’t know about pseudonyms.
These days I am more prepared for whatever life throws at me because I will be totally blatant about what I can and cannot do and what I will and will not allow.
Other than twitter, my blog and magazines are there any other steps I should take to get myself known?
Please comment below.
There are seasons in my heart the world has not yet known
A season of rain and a season of sunshine and a season of snow
Different to spring, summer and winter
These are my fluxes of emotion
Though it may sound overblown
But each day you can’t tell, which season I am in
Let’s just hope it’s a sunny one and let’s hope fun begins