Welcome to the second writing club update! (See the previous update here.) I hope you’ve had a pleasant month, and are managing to stay cool (this is me presuming northern hemisphere anyway). One short month ago, a month seemed like such a long time. But now I see it for a just a couple of weekends, and a sprinkling of free evenings.
I’m keeping this update brief, since I’m behind on my own goals. But it’s raining here, and I don’t have to go to work (at my job anyway) today, so I’m excited to get back to it! May you be similarly blessed with dreary weather and lack of responsibilities on this Monday.
Participants
- @JacobCoffinWrites@slrpnk.net - July goal
- @grrgyle@slrpnk.net - July goal
- @hazeebabee@slrpnk.net - July goal
- @Pip@slrpnk.net - June goal
As always, there is no pressure to have completed your goals. But sharing how your month went is super beneficial not just personally, but for the rest of us. Additionally, participants and guests are encouraged to chime in with any comments or questions they may have on project projects, writing club, etc.
A haiku!
Grass
I have mowed my lawn.
The preying mantis left us.
She will not return.I love both of your poems :) thanks so much for sharing them. I know how hard it can be to share something that feels so personal. I hope your poetry journey continues :)
Thanks! I haven’t written anything in about a week but I plan to write more once I’m done moving house
I’m in the same boat lol. I move this wednesday & have not been doing much writing. hope your move goes smoothly :)
Yes! I love this. I’m taking this to mean you offended a preying mantis with your lawnmower noises
I cut down her habitat because I couldn’t afford the HOA fee
@grrgyle@slrpnk.net As promised, here’s a poem. It’s not the poem I told you about. I’m still… Nervous to share that one. It came from a very authentic place but I just… Don’t know. But this one is very personal to me.
Hey, everyone else, though. This poem, while very authentic to me, and very personal, contains EXTREMELY coarse language. It’s an accounting of a lived experience I had.
Hatred
spoiler
Left foot, right foot One step at a time Hours at a time
Left foot, right foot Focused on the road Focused on myself
Left foot, right foot Checking on my form Making sure I’m good
“FAGGOT!”
Left foot, right foot I set it aside for now Something doesn’t sit
Left foot, right foot Talking with my friend Gender is a spectrum
Left foot, right foot New understanding Feelings I set aside
“FAGGOT!”
Left foot, right foot There it is again This child hates me
Left foot, right foot This child hates me I didn’t even know
Left foot, right foot I didn’t even know Men, women, it’s love
Left foot, right foot It’s still love. I see it now I didn’t know myself
“FAGGOT!”
Left foot, right foot This child hates me I didn’t know myself
Left foot, right foot I can love anyone It doesn’t change me
Left foot, right foot I’ve always been this I just didn’t know me
Left foot, right foot Who I’ve always been It’s okay. I’m okay.
“FAGGOT!”
Left foot, right foot This child hates me Who planted this seed
Left foot, right foot I was born this way This child was not
Left foot, right foot This seed was planted It had to be planted
“FAGGOT!”
Left foot, right foot I’ve focused myself I make myself better
Left foot, right foot The way I improve me I will improve the world
“FAGGOT!”
Left foot, right foot This hate shouldn’t be Passed to the next child
Left foot, right foot Kids need the future Deserve not to hate
Left foot, right foot The child hurts, too I’m wounded. Him too.
“FAGGOT!”
Left foot, right foot My team gives strength This kid needs strength
Left foot, right foot We are strong together We are strong without hate
Whoa. Powerful. Sorry, I would have replied sooner, but I guess my mobile lemmy client doesn’t show me @s as notifications.
I’m not super well versed in poetry or its forms, but the tempo as I’m reading it feels oppressive. The “Left foot, right foot” paired with the thoughts that are also doubled feels to me almost like a martial rhythm. And then of course the shock of the ugly slur as the rhythm continues, and the internal monologue (?) also continues on; maintaining composure, doing mental labour…
I know I’m projecting hard onto it, but that’s my raw feelings just from a first reading. Thank you for sharing!
This might be a silly question, but what are you writing poetry for? Like, to process personal thoughts, or communicate something to others? I guess that is silly, why does anyone do anything lol, probably always for those reasons and many more. I’m just an overly curious person. :p
what are you writing poetry for? Like, to process personal thoughts, or communicate something to others?
Yes. I don’t think you can separate the two. I grew up in the United States and the older I get the more I see our atomized nature as a soft form of torture that allows those with power to perform more overt forms of torture. All of our personal thoughts are hidden from each other so we can survive to tomorrow. Meanwhile, we do that and isolate ourselves. Who we isolate ourselves from though are the people who would be most ready to help us because they’re going through the exact same thing. I think sharing our pain is a form of culture building, and I don’t just mean “this is the pain I feel” but instead realizing its pain we all feel.
I am incredibly blessed to have been gifted a body that was extraordinarily well suited to cross country running and to have found my tribe in college. I’m also grappling with all the other things I’ve been cursed with that have prevented me from being all that I can, and I’ve been realizing this is how its always been, what we’ve always been as a species. There is absolutely nothing stopping us from enjoying the things we love except for an oppressive regime of torture. I want to help others find their tribes the way I did, find the people who love them for who they are and enjoy the things they do and say. At the same time, the tribe I found frequently found itself coming under derision for not fitting in with others. At the time I laughed it off, at least when it was our cohorts doing it. But when it was children… It hurt me.
