The Art of Our Thoughts

 

7/12/2021- The Art of our Thoughts

When having open discussions about literature and its different genres, there seems to be a definitive line of love or hate for poetry. A majority of arguments that side with disliking the art usually realm from a generalized perspective and categorizing all poetry as one thing, for example describing it as “depressing”. Being able to analytically dissect a poem in itself is a craft that takes time, effort, and an open mind. But oftentimes, the idea of reading or writing poetry makes people uncomfortable because of how easily the craft can become personal whether it be your own work, or someone else’s. 

Since the pandemic, so many people in my life (including myself) yearned to find a new hobby and have also struggled navigating their mental health. More often than not when I tell people they should try writing poetry, the first thing that they say is, “I would never know what to write about” or “writing is boring”. From a stance of validation I understand what it's like to experience writer's block, boredom, and lack motivation. But the beauty I believe that exists in writing is that any work can be turned into art. 

Within the last year, a majority of my writing has stemmed from allowing myself to verbally and physically release my thoughts through having conversations with myself alone or even on paper. Utilizing writing as an outlet to not only heal through trauma, but to relearn my love for writing has been an immensely validating experience. Oftentimes that is exactly what makes people uncomfortable about writing and reading poetry. It forces us to communicate ideas in so many ways that they aren't used to.  

Practicing this does not have to come from any specific realm or perspective. Visually verbalizing our life’s questions can be immensely powerful even if it is allowing yourself to contemplate and understand the existence of time, or why people like pickles. But it can also help you understand new parts of yourself, and have a better understanding of others and the world around you. 

Starting new hobbies are hard, just as beginning tasks we put off to the side. As I always say, the first step is always the hardest. But giving yourself some time to experience new art expands our ability for educational and emotional intake. As I said before, any writing can be turned into art. The best way to start this is to simply allow yourself to “word vomit” on the paper. This simply means, to write every work that comes to your mind. 

Allowing myself to do this at times where I needed to unwind has sparked a sense of calming when things are crazy. And let me tell you, by doing this, I have found some healing poetry gold. There is nothing cooler than working out your thoughts into an art that may help others. 

Often times, we avoid writing because of the fears of what follows if we share it, especially writing stuff such as this. But allowing casual vulnerability can open a new realm of understanding of yourself. So today take that step, write out the recurring randomness that flows through your brain. It may take you somewhere.:) 

XX-

T

“Questioning Knowing”

Questioning Knowing                   

I’ve always questioned what it meant,

    to know..

But I think because when I knew,

        that I knew,

                I  Felt  Wrong..

Because she was so beautiful,

And he was so handsome.

    both perfectly crafted into helping 

    me know:

        who I really am..

We live in a world where we have to make choices,

    but I couldn’t,

                and I can’t. 

I hate that I questioned what I knew

    when I was thirteen,

Now being 21 accepting that

 to know is to love me

                and 

                    her

                        and 

                            him.

Because to know,

    is to love.

And there is no greater love than

        knowing yourself.

XX- TR

The First Time Series- “To be Alive”

 The First Time Series- “To be Alive”

Oranges, purples, blues, and pinks kissed the top of the     canyon's edge. 

Drops of tiny pebbles send echos through the space,

Trying to compete with the wind’s whispers.

Over hanging trees sway in response to the whistles’         words: 

    this is what it means to be alive. 

With feet over the edge,

My shoelaces dancing with the internal epiphany of         finally knowing;

    this is what it means to be alive. 

And I know I will never forget that moment 

when..

Oranges, purples, blues, and pinks, kissed the top of the     canyon’s edge,

when..

Drops of tiny pebbles sent echos through the space,

when..

Trying to compete with the winds whispers,

when..

Over hanging trees sway in response to the whistles’         words:

            telling me:

            YOU ARE ALIVE. 

Recognizing Our Growth

 Recognizing Our Growth

     Throughout our lives, we constantly go through a multitude of periods of growth. This can be with our jobs, emotions, health, relationships, learning, and writing. I have been writing poetry since I was about 12 years old, and have had many opportunities in my life to expand my writing knowledge and ability. 

The number one thing I was told in every English or writing class was, “the only way to improve your writing is to read other people's work.” Reading any type of writing is valuable to our learning, even if it’s not your usual style or topic. My sophomore year of college I took a writing class that was for fiction short stories, and let me tell you I have never been a story writer. But I was so lucky to be in a class with individuals who were gifted short story writers, as well as others who felt the same as me. My Professor opened my eyes to viewing writing as a “craft”, which was the beginning of my journey of making my work as a creative opportunity. 

I also had the opportunity to take a class all focused on poetry, and going in I thought I had an easy A. I thought, “I’ve been writing for years! I got this”. Yes, I did get an A but there was so much more that I needed to learn about the craft of writing poetry. I am so grateful that I got to share and hear the work of my peers, and have been able to grow my craft. Classes like these are what pushed me to officially make the decision to become an English teacher. I want to be able to share the amazing benefits writing your own and reading others' writing can do for ourselves. 

In all of my writing classes, we learned about giving and receiving constructive criticism and revising our work. Though some do not believe in revising their poetry, allowing yourself to grow from each piece of art you create is what allows writing to be a craft. Revision can help make poems (or even short stories) so much stronger; and sometimes it’s as simple as punctuation. Every detail in our writing matters and it took me a long time to realize that. I am by no means an amazing writer, I am still learning everyday. And I love every moment.

I am not ashamed of my old work, but rather am proud to show my growth as a writer. Here is an example of an old poem I wrote when I was 16. 

Late night thoughts from September 7th, 2016

When I tell you I love you, I'm telling you you're limitless talents are extraordinary. I'm telling you that the flaws you find within yourself, I see perfection.

When I tell you I love you, I'm handing you my heart as I guarantee the safety of yours. 

Everyday you find a way to let me know I am beautiful.

You let me know the things you love about me. 

As I lay here tonight, I crave your presence.

As I lay here, I miss you.

And as I think about how I miss you, I think about all the little things." 

I love this poem, but there is so much I can do with it, from using more of my own creative voice, to even the layout of the words itself. I’d love to see some of your old work too!

Xx- T

What Exactly is Poetic Perspectives?

 What Exactly is Poetic Perspectives? 

What exactly is the topic for this blog, and why is it named “Poetic Perspectives”?   

    Poetry is one of the largest forms of writing used for such a vast amount of topics and materials. Some of the most famous poets come from different parts of the world, sexual orientation, gender identity, and points in history. The best part being- poetry is not limited to any individual. Poetic Perspectives is a blog that highlights the art of poetry from a non- biased or opinionated perspective. This blog will be all inclusive, especially highlighting the amazing work of many BIPOC and LGBTQ + writers that constantly go unnoticed by many places throughout the education system as well as share resources that directly help these communities. 

The blog will consist of a multitude of series- all of which will not be consecutively posted to keep the content interesting. Some of the different topics that will be discussed in the blog are (not limited to), poetry prompts, good to know knowledge on the art, viewing and analyzing the work of classic or up and coming writers, and even sharing some of my own.  Though this may not sound like the blog is narrowed down, having a realm of topics within the subject of poetry is what will allow me as the creator to offer a more diverse and reader friendly experience while offering more original and authentic content with each post. 

    The name Poetic Perspectives came from a few different rationals. For starters, it has a ring to it! But more specially, this blog explores a multitude of concepts demonstrated through poetry, as well as new ways of interpreting classic and new writing. Not only does the blog get to explore and analyze work that is already published, it will provide a multitude of resources on why poetry is helpful to everyone and new prompt ideas. And finally, it just simply works for promotion and sounds pleasing. I love the name and there is no other blog or social media page that has an immensely similar handle. The blog already has several social media pages with a large amount of interaction for the amount of time they have been up. Viewers are allowed and encouraged to share their work with the blog for other readers through the use of Direct Messaging on Instagram. (Link below) 

https://www.instagram.com/poetic_perspectivesblog/ 

What is the target audience for this blog? And how will you reach them? 

    Poetry is loved by people of all ages. However I sometimes fear that with the lack of inclusivity within our education system, writers from the LGBTQ+ and BIPOC communities will continue to not be recognized and further push the injustices they face to do the same. My target audience will be people who identify within the age realm of a Milillenial or Gen Z to help spark and continue the push for more inclusive and politically correct content  and conversations being pushed out into the world. These age groups seem to be very vocal and active about injustices that marginalized communities face everyday. I hope that by making my target audience individuals who push for change and are an ally (like myself), or identify with any of these communities will continue to educate others and share their work, perspectives, and additional resources with this blog as well! 

What makes me qualified to write about this topic? Why is this topic important to me?

    I have written poetry since I was at least 11 years old. Writing was the first form of therapy I began utilizing as a coping mechanism to deal with my own trauma. I remember the first time I spent a large section of class time in sixth grade creating my first poetry portfolio, that I still have(That was almost 10 years ago). Throughout many opportunities in my life, I have been able to turn this tool into an enjoyable hobby and a craft that I have been gifted to be able to share. 

I have worked with very great writers and Professors at our University and shared my work with my followers on my social media and am very grateful I have the platform to be able to turn this into something that is not only an interest to me, but may also benefit others. I myself am not a person of color, but feel very fortunate to have a majority of the content used in my classes for my BA in English to have primarily been work and poetry from Black Feminist writers, BIPOC folx, and individuals in the LGBTQ+ community. I take every opportunity I can to be a good ally for these marginalized communities, and I hope to share all of that through this art. I hope to eventually publish a book full of my poetry, and I hope this blog begins creating the motivation, platform, and opportunity to make that possible one day. 

XX- T

“Seasons”

 Seasons

 

In the midst of summer,

The leaves around me seemed to be dying.

My bones ached; my mind was frozen,

   as if it were winter, the death of a long season.

Dark skies hung above my head,

   wind swirling me into submission,

For the leaves were simply crumpling to the touch,

   meanwhile everything else seemed to be warm and bright.

 

In this decayed hold, I was lost,

For the seasons were jumbled,

And I;

I was tired.

 

Then one day, I finally felt a glimpse of heat,

A small break in the clouds.

He began to show me the color in the leaves,

But the wind kept swirling me into submission.

 

Months went by, and the winter chill felt more like an autumn breeze,

The clouds were less dark but remained overcast.

He warmed the air, but my heart stayed cold.

 

By the time the air was brisk,

And the leaves of the real world had begun to fall,

All I could feel was the heat of summer,

The leaves full of color.

 

In this decayed hole, love began to fill the spaces.

Each day replenishing what was being emptied before,

Now this.

This is where I need to be.

And today, I finally saw all the colors of the leaves.

XX- T

“I Never Told Anybody”

I Never Told Anybody

 

I never told anybody that chords with dissonance resonate with my heart.

The clash of the notes is a tragic pain: They sound wrong yet appear so close.

Their relationship causes tension.

 

 

I never told anybody that my relationship with love is an entanglement of chords;

I can never figure out.

I have yet to master the notes.

 

 

I never told anybody that I caused my own broken heart.

The broken chords in my chest just kept bending with each sound my mind made.

And yet I still wait for the note of resolution,

The break in the dissonance in what I call;

 

 

My life.

XX- T