Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts

Sunday, 1 January 2012

Here Went Something



The title? Well my first post in 2011 was called Here Goes Nothing, thought I'd work with that rather than just call it the end. That seemed a slightly shitty title, not to mention it sounds a pinch depressing. But on to more important matters. 

Well, this is it, the conclusion I promised. After this, I have most certainly posted on my blog every day for a year, it started on the 1st and it ends on the 1st. What do I say? I'll just start typing and hopefully in amongst all my mumblings, some form of decent sense of ending will occur. 



Writing a poem every day for a year, it wasn't easy. Especially because what I was writing, I didn't think was very good and occasionally I felt I was wasting my time. But I carried on, probably because of stubborness and wanting to prove I could do it more than anything. And I think by writing these poems, it forced me to think so much more about what I was seeing. It allowed me to look around the world and try and get inspiration from anything. That kind of thought process in fact led to my first tattoo, I wanted to get something to remember what that felt like. To be open minded and wide eyed, wanting to soak in as much as I could from life.

I think I've always liked the occasional moment where you just sit back and let the world take over. Looking through a window and watching the clouds, walking along the street and listening to conversations, wondering about other people and their lives and how you have no idea who they are or what they'll do except in that brief second of conversation. And train rides. I love train rides. You get to really absorb scenery and catch glimpses of lives which have nothing to do with you. It makes you think one of two things 

1. In the bigger picture that makes up the universe we are barely a speck. 
2. How important your own world is - well, what makes up your own world.

I've tried to express this way of thinking in my poems, not to force other people to think the same, but just to try and show what I'm like. I'm sure other people have the same sort of thoughts.  I'm 18 - I do know that other people understand me and most likely feely the same. (just thinking of the whole stereotype teenager of nobody understands me and my individuality, blah blah blah)

Jesus, this is is a lot of writing. Oh well, it's the last blog post, I think I'm allowed to indulge myself a bit. I'm trying to think what else I want to say. Well, I said it yesterday but thank you so much for reading this. You're a wonderful (and patient) person :') 



It's a relief and kind of sad to have finished. I'm quite proud of myself for sticking with it. I hope that when I'm older, I continue to write because I can't remember a time when I haven't loved it. I did this because I wanted to become a more creative person, I'm not sure if I am but I am definitely a more inspired person. 

Thursday, 22 December 2011

A Skill



I wouldn't call it confidence 
and definitely not arrogance 
but maybe more so,
tiny self assurance 
at having a skill.


Maybe not even that 
for skills seems too strong
but this,
writing,
(in a creative sense)
is something that 
I feel as if you can't do wrong 
once surrounded by my words 
I feel like this is where
I belong 

it's something I enjoy
something I like
and something
that I don't really think
but would like to hope
it may be something
that I can do. 

Tuesday, 29 November 2011

Copy Write

When writing
it's inviting 
to take lines from others 
maybe for ease
but more so 
because what they've written 
fits exactly what I think
but in such an eloquent way
making anything I try
nothing much
not really even okay.


If one day 
I could reach the point
of admiration 
of people wanting 
to use my words 
well,
I can't find any 
at the moment
but it would be
magical.

Friday, 18 November 2011

Writing World



I can only give 
what I have
I can only take
what I need 
I can write 
what I know
or what I wish
or anything 
that lays between.


It's not so much control
but finding myself 
within my soul 
discovering what I like
what I wish to happen 
trying to make people read
what I see. 


When I write
the world stops
while I create my own.

Tuesday, 12 April 2011

Desire, Inspire





The longing to write
to grasp that initial excitement
of beginning to sculpt a new world
and mould new characters
grows every day
but it is stopped by a fear
of it already being done
imagination not good enough
or having enough  stamina
to finish.


Not knowing where to start
there's enough desire
but I'm not inspired 
for all I can wonder is
what story needs to be told?