#poets community
I wish I could think of words to write.
But instead,
Pointless thoughts
Empty head
Nothing meaningful
Just anxiety.
I swear my attraction
Both romantic and sexual
Just loves to roll a dice
And whatever it lands on
Is what my main attraction is for the day!
Only becoming exclusive once feelings grow,
Leaving me wondering if
I have ever been attracted to different others before…
Was I just bored?
But then, those feelings subside
And I realize that I am not imagining things
Until, feelings grow once again
I exist as a confused, shaken bottle of frustration
December reminds me that I have loved
But that I’m not loved
At least, not loved enough for someone
To want me to be a part of their holiday celebration
Our love is not worth celebrating.
I know I’ve shared this before but I’m not scrolling through my archives to reblog it it was quicker to just make a new post. I’m going to be sharing a few poems from my Vocal page.
Vocal has made a few updates, they’ve introduced a little feedback thing you can give to writers at the bottom of our pieces but they’ve now also made commenting on peoples work available. So if you like my work of have feedback or anything on it feel free to leave a comment or feedback. You can also give it a heart/like if you wish although idk if you need an account for that tbh.
Vocal does also have an option to leave a tip which is never expected but always appreciate or if you prefer I now have tipping on tumblr as well as my Ko-Fi which I have the link to on my Vocal and there you’ll also find access to exclusive poems for supporters.
For The Girl In Me Who Was Once Afraid.
Today was the final session of the Trauma Therapy Group me and my mum went too. It was really useful and I liked that it was a small group, it made it less scary, overwhelming and such with my anxiety and more accessible.
I feel like I came away with a greater understanding of the connection between trauma and the body. And that maybe it’s now given me the skills to work on that connection and not neglect it i.e forgetting to eat or drink or sleep.
I think sharing this is rather apt given the work I’ve been doing in the group these past 6 weeks. Whilst this starts off sad (it’s a collection of 3 short micro poems) the final poem ends on a rather hopeful tone about my trauma and the way its affected me and it mirrors how I’m feeling no. I feel hopeful that one day I can move past my trauma I know it’s changed me in ways that I’ll never get back the person I used to be, and I no longer crave to be the old me. But there are things that impact my daily life that I hope to overcome, so that I can stop living in the past, stop being so afraid, and to look forward to a brighter future.
This does come with a TW as it does discuss themes of abuse/domestic violence nothing graphic or anything just thats what the poems are about and the first two are sadder. Actually I feel like they represent different stages in my POV on my trauma - the first anger that they could do this to me. The second is sadness, hopelessness almost but mostly just sad and this feeling like I’ll always be haunted by my past hence the hopelessness. But the final one is me accepting or hoping I’d say fits it better, hoping that maybe one day that won’t always be the case I won’t always be haunted or tormented by my past.
It’s a more hopeful outlook than the poem prior and I think for the most part my thoughts now remain similar to the final poem and less so the second but I still struggle to reconcile how they could behave such a way and that conflict is well expressed in the first poem and despite my hope that conflict is still ever present. Anyways this is long enough you didn’t need this explanation/summary on the poems so maybe just go read it instead?
Just posted my first Post+ exclusive poem!! It’s $3.99 a month and I’m offering exclusive poems and other short writing content such as prose and maybe some short stories in the future. Also social media shoutouts and reblogging of your posts although please don’t spam me to reblog like 10 posts in a week try be reasonable in reblog/shoutout requests no spamming basically.
I hadn’t really thought about the shoutouts thing until it had it as a suggested perk I could offer and I thought sure why not add that in.
Anyways I’m excited and will be making sure to post content regularly for subscribers. Idk if this will actually take off or it’ll be a flop but doesn’t hurt to try I suppose. Also let me know if you’ve got feedback like do you think $3.99 is fair or would you rather it be cheaper?
Tumblr gives me a few options on pricing the lowest it goes is $1.99 then it jumps straight to $3.99 but I would consider lowering it at least in the beginning if people are interested but the price is just a bit out of reach for you guys.
‘confidently lost’ paperback available worldwide ⋒ on amazon
it’s already snowing outside / I thought summer just ended / I turned on the AC yesterday / today I turned on the heat / plastic wrapping on my frozen lasagna / it’s in the recycling bin but I still feel guilty / I thought it was fall / I fell to my knees when I saw the snow / intricate flakes on my arms that I can’t shake off / they’re too pretty to ruin / now they’re melted and ruined / I can’t shake the feeling that the world is ending / tell me / when the world ends will I still feel guilty?
not like other girls
was a title i coveted
but never earned.
i wrote off makeup,
i stopped talking about fairies and mermaids
to research superheroes.
i quit ballet in favor of taekwondo
but even in a plain white dobok and a brown tti,
dripping sweat and exhaustion
i was not enough.
i was vengeful in my frustration
notorious for the blood on my gloves—
we weren’t supposed to aim for the nose
but i was smaller and younger
and a good actress.
deep down i think i knew
i would never be like the girls
who weren’t like other girls,
and that made me wonder
what about other girls was so bad,
and why there were no boys
who weren’t like other boys.
i expected other girls to be what i’d seen on tv
and read in books,
but instead i was met with compliments,
kind eyes and genuine voices,
proclaiming boys were to be seen and not heard.
i learned that i was pretty
and i looked cute in pink
and the school confiscates pocketknives
but keys fit between your fingers.
i fell in love with other girls
when they took his sneer as a declaration of war,
unleashed their tongues like rabid dogs
in defense of girls they’d never spoken to
and flashed sharp grins
when their words bit hard enough
to reward them with tears.
i watched in awe
as other girls filed their nails into claws,
drove needles through their ears and noses
and lined their eyes with intimidation.
the judgement of their fathers
weighed down their bare shoulders
and adorned their short skirts
but every time he voiced it
their scissors took another inch off the bottom.
they were feral, and territorial,
they were disobedient and wanted blood,
they dressed how they wanted
and if you looked and didn’t like it
that was your problem.
i failed at not like other girls
because i met other girls
and i remembered my breath was fire
and my teeth dripped venom,
my hair was a nest of snakes
and my gaze was stone;
they knew i was a gorgon
years before i did
and now i’ve finally
become one.
