Why I write poetry

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Hey guys, so I’ve noticed a few people talk about why they write prose or poetry, personally I do both, but I’d like to talk about poetry right now. I never thought I’d write poetry, I happened onto it on twitter. Just a short piece here or there and as time went on I realised I loved it. The words were freeform, I didnt have to set myself a boundry. I could be just the thoughts I was thinking. Just the moment I was feeling. It took me a little while to open myself up into it. I was afraid people wouldn’t like it. That I wouldn’t get the Rhythm right, or it wouldnt rhyme. But eventually I came to the understanding that it didn’t matter much, my words would take me on a journey. The people who like to read them would find some of the delight, or sorrow I found when writing them. It was freeing, and addictive. So now I very proudly say; yes, I am a poet. And sometimes people think its strange, and sometimes they roll their eyes, but you know what? Let them, there is a joy to it that I cannot explain, for a few moments, in some of my poetry I am able to capture that ephemeral feeling of what it is to be me, and I love it.

G S Scribbles

Just Tired

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We all say it, don’t we? When a co-worker asks how we’re feeling, and the day is resting a little heavy, even though its only 9am. Just tired. Like this feeling will go away with a good nap. But what happens when you aren’t ‘just tired’. When you’re exhausted, not just physically but emotionally. When you need something but you don’t know what it is, or how to achieve it? Or maybe you do know what you need, and you are afraid to take it? I’m not sure. I’ve been ‘just tired’ for so many years now I wonder if there is a way to feel anything else. I’ve tried so many things, so many activities, and in the end I always just come back to this deep seated feeling of restlessness. Like my very being is torn, and its getting harder to ignore. I look at my life like a road of nothing but false starts and wrong turns. Depressing right? Change it right? I want to, I want to change it all. Tear down the paper from the walls, but what if I make it worse? Thats always the question. What if my choices make it worse somehow, if I paint the room yellow and realise I hate the colour yellow? Depressing of course. Thats the problem, its all so very depressing.

Anyway, I didn’t come here to lay my troubles at the doors of everyone, I came to say that I think perhaps it might be better to live in a sunrise rather than perpetual night. So here’s to making changes, however small. Like starting a blog you were terrifed to start. Sending a story to a publisher even if you’re afraid you aren’t good enough, aren’t unique enough.

And here’s to the lost souls, the ones who try to do the right thing, but find life does not always reward that. That you can make no mistakes and still fail. The ones who have lost hope. Because I at the very least am proud of you, all of you who try to be good, in a world that begs you to become cruel.

I am searching for myself now. And I think its going to get rough. I am certain this road will not be easy, and I will stumble. But I want to find me, the me I can sit with, and not need to comfort. For all those in the same boat, I hope you find you too. I hope you can search through the darkness and extract the light. Because somewhere out there, beyond all the doubt, and all the madness, there must be stars. There must be a full moon just waiting for the wolf to cry to the heavens, ‘I found you.’

Much Love, G S Scribbles ❤