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I've written stories ever since I could write, but somewhere along the way I seem to have lost the joy and natural desire to write for me. Churning out stories every other week for my degree course, and forcing non-existent brilliance out of myself has drained my natural spirit. So, I have created myself a blog in an attempt to find a way back to what made me fall in love with writing in the first place. Only you and I will discover if I fail or succeed...

Thursday, 23 September 2010

In Which I Attempt to Write a Poem

The title of this post is, I’ll admit, a little misleading. I have written a poem; it’s just not finished yet. You see, my old faithful Forward Press invited me to enter a competition for Britain’s best love poem. Inspiring, no? Of course! [1] So I added ‘write love poem’ to my hardly-ever-ticked-off To-Do list and went about my life. Yesterday morning, as I lay in bed I pondered over what I ought to (but probably wouldn’t) do that day and I decided to have a go at this poem.

When I (eventually) got out of bed, I poured my cereal and chopped my nectarine and picked up my Moleskine.[2] The pages are just the right size for the length of poems I usually write (think short) and I thought I’d be very poetical (no pun intended) and write while I ate and gazed out of the window. I thought about what I might write about and decided to list words that came into my head about love and use them in a poem (another old faithful)[3]. I tried to think of a few lines for some of the words and failed...

One of my words was the word ‘words’; words that people say about love, words to express love, the word ‘love’ etc.[4] So I started writing about words.[5] Things that I say and hear and are relevant to me, because – as I told my housemate the night before – you write so much better when you know what you’re talking about, even when you’re not telling everything you know about your content. Anyway; where was I? Oh yes, words. Well, some particular words had been spoken to me recently that stayed in my head for a while, hence my ultra creative title: ‘The word that dances endlessly around my head’.[6] My resulting poem is something I’m quite proud of (apart from some of the rhythms – evil blighters), but it’s also something more for me. I found that, in writing about my personal situation from a vague-poety i.e. outside(ish) perspective that I ended up learning a little about myself. Like those pretentious-sounding ‘journeys of discovery’ people talk about sometimes. That’s right – I learnt from myself! All cheer!

Until next time. Toodle-pip xx

[1] Being currently in love, I felt I must be the expert on all things love – plus, it’s not very cheerful to write about love when you have none.

[2] A notebook/diary, which is not made of the skin of a mole if you were wondering.

[3] Actually, I was reminded of this old faithful from recently reading book 2/3 of the Gossip Girl series - as addictive as the TV show!

[4] Sorry for all the ‘words’ – and that one.

[5] That one, too.

[6] Nb. The bit about being ‘ultra-creative’ was sarcastic, duh.