At the tip of my tongue
Ringing, on silent
To tell me no one’s on the other end of the line.
But the screen suddenly beams
As did her smile
At the nameless stranger
Who’s anticipated words
Will act like compass
To inform her in the change of winds
Elsewhere but here.
There she was
Compressed, by suffocating air
As darkness envelopes
Where she spends another night hoping
For (a dear) life.
Like most people, the first encounter with poetry (music aside) is during our early days of elementary school in English class. I was not particularly a fan of poetry: limericks, haikus, acrostic… very structured and specific poetry. However, even though these types of poems are structured, I did not find them difficult to write. But what I did find challenging was free verse. The oddity in this may already question your mind and in response to your curiosity, it’s simply because there’s no limit to writing free verse. It’s open to any subject, structure and nothing is deemed incorrect.
At the time, even if free verse was my cup of tea, I did not find reason to write outside of class assignments. I suppose I was busy with indulging in mischievous and childish acts instead.
If I remember correctly, it wasn’t until grade 11 when poetry reintroduced itself. This time, it was when slam poetry was beginning to emerge outside four corners and into YouTube videos. My sister was the first person to send me a link and to this day, the feeling of thrill and respect I had when I first watched/listened to a slam, remains the same.
From that year on, I kept writing poetry. I found that writing short free verses (such as the one above) came naturally and quickly. However, I always desired to write beyond my forté and to this day, I have yet to write a slam poem. I don’t know if I’ll ever get there but to be honest, just posting my poetry online is already a huge step for me.
My poetry is very personal and intimate, making it difficult to share with the world. I’ve made several attempts to publish my poetry in blogs, but I always find myself deleting or keeping them under ‘only me’ privacy settings. I suppose it’s difficult to share them with an audience that knows me and since poetry is open to interpretation, judgment inevitably lingers. If I speak for everyone, judgment is unpleasant. But, not criticism.
Very little people enjoy poetry or even understand it. To some extent, even if poetry (as I mentioned) is open to interpretation, there is still a ‘right’ interpretation: the author’s. I seldom find people to share poetry with and even if I do, it’s scary to reveal yourself in such a manner. Therefore, after some ‘logical’ thinking, sharing my poetry through the internet may put me better at ease in desiring to ‘put myself out there’ and hopefully, receive constructive criticism for it.
I don’t know how much attention this post (or my blog entirely) will even receive, but if there’s at least one person out there that enjoys it, I may consider publishing more in the future. Don’t be scared, I accept comments.
Oh, before you leave (you nameless stranger who never called me… I kid), I just thought I’d share my excitement for a poetry class I signed up for in the upcoming school year. I am heavily convinced that it leans towards a more analytical approach as opposed to writing, but no good writer exists without becoming a good reader first. And that’s my gift of optimism to you after such a gloom poem.
A plus tard et avec l’amour!