It’s been nice, frankly. Laying letters into a semblance of a blog post. I’ve ran into the act of writing something, anything, yet again…for good reason. A word of caution: This, I type, past midnight on a Friday and while I’m not particularly sleepy, the editor-in-me is more forgiving of subpar writing around this time.
It’s been a week since Final Year of Uni began. As ridiculous as me worrying over the stress of deadlines sounds (hell, it’s a sign of my privilege that I get to rant on this particular #1stWorldProblem ), it’s rather difficult to un-worry? I know I ought to accept this as the norm. After all, we’re all drifting under different weights of worry at different times, whether or not we lay it out into words. That’s a shared comfort in any turmoil.
Yesterday was #NationalPoetryDay and oh boy, how I loved it. Poetry’s slipped into my life and taken hold of so much of how these thoughts, untangle. And, its continued to remain a novel medium of self-expression after all this time. I’m still sure I do it right. See, I’ve never had someone teach it to me. Thus, I admit to calling myself a poet on material that may be as far away from poetry as the North and South poles, themselves.
Even then, I chase its company.
To mark the occasion yesterday, I spammed the whole of Twitter with a million poetry-related tweets and likes and retweets. Here, I’ll share a duality with these 2 incredible poems.
- Maggie Smith’s Good Bones
- Danusha Lameris’s Small Kindnesses
Both of these poems unpacked, beautifully - a lasting feeling. I was better for having read them and I hope, maybe, even ONE of you reading them here...now, are, too?
Finally, because I could not help myself:
Remember, if you find a poet/poet-in-making around you:
Welcome their words with them. Bring their meek, uncertain verses into the limelight. Ask them how troublesome their writing's been to them.
They'll shuffle their feet & thank you in their heart, quietly.
Until next time.