My Unfuckening 

Heart Wrenching Poetics 

It was in the ricochet of your aim,
shrapnel repercussions
forcibly deconstructed into
disassociation.

From myself,
from you, for nothing more
than to fathom
the ugliness of such
an existence.

I dismount your weapon and slide,
somewhere between meter and rhyme,
I honour the freedom of bending it
e v e r
s o
s l i g h t l y

Juxtaposition it,
until the walls that hold me
are stardust in
free verse of
curved time with
absolutely no construct.

I trudged within the grime
of what it is to see
structures fall into place and rust,
to see signs in a darkened sky
and have the balls
to raise myself high enough
to confess I’m knee-deep
in this mess.

To now see that you didn’t see
and you probably will
never comprehend
the complexity of layers
embedded in me.

Carnage is only carnage
if I allow it.

I held my thoughts in splinters
daggers of past times
in my fingers, that now
freely type and sometimes rhyme
about what it is to
live through such a
thing.

Today, I kick up dust
leg raised high
with a singular twirl.

This, this is the beginning of my unfuckening.

This is How it Feels to be a Poet Today

Imagine, you’re always the odd one in the room, pouring words in all the wrong places. Splashing the faces of those who are not in tune with the rhythm of a heart that beats to release poetics not defined as structured or educated enough to fly high with the best or drift in the winds of the classics before you.

You’re not rich in fancy words but simplistically poor.

Growth comes and goes but never seems to hang around long enough
for you to grasp it.

Imagine, catharsis is your life and try as you might your pen does not move
on demand, so when it flows you have to drop everything and in that process you leave everyone behind.

Just as you think you nailed meter and rhyme, chiming perfectly in line with what is socially acceptable, your creative boost becomes the noose around your neck, with, yet, another rejection.

Not a damn soul in this god forsaken room understands how heavy that feels.

You know you’re an awkward oddity sitting somewhere between poetry and prose. Your heart is in this, but you wish it wasn’t sometimes, because, these lines take another piece of you and you only have so much to give.

Isolation is your best friend in a world that does not approve of you, just another number, it is always about the numbers. They rather you sink in your words until you can rise with something softer, something broad or gentle.

Something that isn’t you.

Authenticity calls your name only to be swept away and with it your dreams of ever being recognized as someone worthy of the title ….

Poet.

You wind down now and release. You count the people who accept you, the people who encourage you, you do so on one hand.

Although it is only one, that is everything.

Langtson Hughes reminds you to dream and Wendell Berry chimes in with The Peace of Wild Things…

and for a few, rare, moments, you can breathe again.

This is how it feels to be a poet today.

 

Another Title Here

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The Journey..

My writing journey began as a child, writing diary entries to cope with the broken home I was living in. Watching my mother suffer (domestic violence) and living in a toxic household seem to unleash my artistic journey.

Thankfully, this was only part of my childhood. We were fortunate to escape and start a better life in my early teens.

I believe I have an inner strength and the capacity to see things from a different angle due to this experience. This is reflected in my work.

For most of my life, I kept my poetic side to myself, though I was incredibly creative and  artistic, I had confidence issues. One day (in my twenties) I was brave enough to share some of my work with some friends, the response was positive and encouraging enough for me to eventually share via a writing platform (https://medium.com/@Wildflower11).

My first public piece was shared in May of 2016. I used the pen name Wild Flower to keep my identity private. That was five years ago now. I have grown as a writer and now proudly attach my real name to my work.

 I have been published in print, anthologies, and actively write for several online publications.I’m currently working on my first poetry book, titled “Watching the Sky Meet the Sea”.

Themes of my childhood are still reflected in my work; I consider it an important part of who I am today and believe in reaching into hearts through this craft. 

If my story has sparked your interest, journey with me.

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