Tag: inktober 2016

Literary Inktober 2: “Anger”

“Anger”

There is a hunger prowling,
a deep and rooted pain.
I see it shining
through a haze,
within a fog,
across a parting sea.

It writhes and burns,
and seeks but to devour,
every thing and every soul
I’ve kept within me still.

And if too long
I linger here, dwelling,
on its form–
it will know just where to look
amidst the changing hours,
and it will seek me,
with a passion,
simply to sate its pressing thirst–
before it goes once more,
Prowling, prowling,
down the lane.

Literary Inktober 1: “I’ve Found a Place for Empathy”

“I’ve Found a Place For Empathy”

I’ve found a place for empathy.
It lies between a cracking vase
and shattered palms.
It rests inside a butcher’s brow–
At once stern and hard,
and yet remembers,
that each piece he cuts had
a history once.
That in each whack he
must look back and see it as it was.
We are at once a troubled lot,
whose faces scrunch in shame,
and yet, by turn, we see in sighs–
the weight that’s held within our eyes.
Maybe empathy is the same–
And lies between our window panes.

Writing poetry is hard, especially since I am not editing these but writing them, and then posting them as they are presented. This is at once terrifying and freeing.

My goal, however, for Literary Inktober, is not to write a perfect poem, to write a perfect story or drabble, but, instead, to capture a moment in my thinking; to allow for the freedom of drafting, to get my hand flowing on paper.The wonderful thing about this is that I can later return to a similar theme and re-write it, or re-imagine it. Beyond this, for some of the ones I really like, I might edit them a bit to simply put aside for their own use; maybe one day I’ll be able to have them published.

Often, the hardest step is putting a mark on the page, for art or writing, and I want to, in many ways, cure this fear from myself: to allow for freedom in getting what I am thinking down, and being okay with my muddled, fragmented thoughts.

While this project isn’t for crafting a poem worthy of publishing, it is to allow myself permission to write, and be okay with how I write. We all often find fault in our own writing, saying it isn’t good enough, and never will. Maybe this is true in some aspects, it never will be “good enough,” but if I don’t even write anything–how can I expect to be better?

I want Literary Inktober to encapsulate my thoughts, to allow for me to write what comes, and to be okay with mistakes, misspellings, and other mishaps. To be allowed to simply write, and maybe, along the way, I’ll find something wondrous within.

If nothing else, I want Literary Inktober to be a stepping stone for reading daily, for writing thoughts on paper daily, and for finding a home for my thoughts daily, even if they aren’t grand or profound.

Today I decided to continue reading some poems by Robert Frost, and trying to read poems I had not yet read by him, even as I read two that were familiar. The poem I found most inspiring by him today was “To Earthward.” I wrote it next to my own poem as a way to connect the two. (Even as they have no relation to one another.) I might not do this all the time, but instead simply copy down poems as I read them and love them enough, as my poetry and drabbles will be kept in a certain format so it will be easy to see what’s mine and what’s someone else’s.

I can tell, I am going to need a bigger journal than what I have already; which, I find, is a rather spectacular problem to have.

Literary Inktober

Step by step we inch closer to the end. And in the moment our feet reach the precipitous we must make a decision: to return to what was or to accept what may be.

I cannot believe that the world I live in now is the end.

So ‘forth, pilgrim, forth.. / here is but wilderness–know thy country’

– From my journal today (quoted section is from my favorite poem by Chaucer, “Truth”)

Because I don’t truly want to do Inktober, but I do want to start a new practice for myself, I thought I’d mention that each day for (at least) October I will be reading a poem/series of poems each day and writing at least one of my own. I will be keeping them all in a specific journal/sketchbook for it because I mourn not reading poetry/written works much this past year.

I think this will allow me my literary motivation, instill a great habit (as I love poetry and have a million poetry books but can never justify reading them all at once for some reason) and, thus, I thought this was a great opportunity for it!

I shall be keeping track of my progress here (I might scan in the poem each day or at the very least write down what I come up with.) Some might be more like drabbles than poems, but I figure, it is fair game for me so long as I am writing and reading.

I will be copying down the poems I read each day that really strike a cord with me to, one, continue to practice of keeping track of what inspires me on any given day in my sketchbook, as well as the fact that I am a quote fiend and enjoy keeping quotes I love/want to remember in a book.

I know this will be a rewarding experience for me as someone who, as much as I am a visual lover, tend to express myself more through literature, hence why my major was via literature than art.