Poem for all self-pitying writers suffering from writers block.

Anyone who writes, whether they call themselves a “Writer” or not has probably experienced this. Last night I hardly got any sleep at all because I had lots and lots of ideas for blog posts or other articles swimming around in my head….demanding my attention…rather than allowing me the bliss of sleep. Eventually around dawn I dozed off with several pieces already written…in my head anyway. Only to awaken, unrested, unrefreshed and very grumpy to find that all those brilliant ideas had evaporated into the ether and I sit frustrated in front of a blank screen. The great writers…..many of them alcoholics…..would use this enforced pause in their ability to write as an excuse to have a little drink…or two. But for me, as perverse as it may seem, I turned to poetry to break my writers block. Please forgive me…..I know not what I do. I am tired after all.

I toss and turn all night in bed,

Amid rumpled sheets all damp with sweat,

Ideas for writing swarm my head,

But morning comes and I forget ……..everything.

I sit before my keyboard,

My first coffee growing cold,

As I try to recall a single word,

Of great ideas once bold ………disappeared.

I’m angry, grumpy, tired,

If I could one idea recall,

My mind once sharp now mired,

Writers block – bricks in a wall…….inaccessible

The screens bright light taunting,

Fingers poised above the keys,

Illusive lines are haunting…. me,

Half remembered thoughts just tease…..like dreams

Ideas so clear last night,

No need to write them down,

This morning not a single bite,

I feel like such a clown……….ridiculous.

But I refuse to let it get me down,

To wallow in self pity,

So I’ll turn that frown upside down,

And jot down this little ditty.………..poetry

Or if you prefer poems that don’t rhyme (free verse)……as the words that aren’t in bold above read….

“everything disappeared,

inaccessible (to) me,

like dreams ,

ridiculous poetry.”

Advertisements

So far so good. What next?

Hi all. I am really enjoying my blogging experience, both from a writing perspective and also from reading other writers posts. As 2018 comes into it’s final days, it almost brings to an end my first 3 months of blogging.

It’s been difficult as a beginner to know what to write about. What do people want to read about? – was my first thought. Then I threw caution to the wind and I simply wrote about anything that came to mind, relating to my passions of writing, books, writers….anything book-ish or book related…travel and photography. Also there was a question of how often I should write? Should I write every day, or once a week – how often is too much and how often is not enough? That question sort of solved its self as I have other things to fit in between my writing….like living. It’s been an interesting first 3 months and this being my 33rd blog post means that I am averaging 11 posts per month or around 2.5 posts per week – which, due to other commitments is about as much as I can manage at this point, although I would love to dedicate more time to writing.

I probably need to rearrange my life to allow more writing time. Not only for my blog, but also for other writing and photography projects – present and future.

I started to write a book about how it was to be a child of the 1960’s, growing up in a Yorkshire village – with my younger brother and about some of the scrapes we used to get ourselves in. After school or in the school holidays we’d spend most of our time with our friends playing in the local woods. This was of course before child molesting became a national sport and the “stranger, danger” programme convinced most parents that the world is no longer a safe place for kids to play unsupervised. That, combined with the internet and virtual reality/on-line gaming is going to rob most kids in the future of the fun of playing in the woods and getting dirty, bruised and scratched – building tree houses, rope swings and just being out in the fresh air.

I had intended it to be more of a family history type book so my children and their children (if and when they have them) have some idea of where their ancestors came from, since we now live on the other side of the planet. BUT once I started writing and the words started to flow it soon became a more anecdotal collection of amusing (I like to think) stories of some of the crazy things we did and lived through as kids.

I hit the 40,000 word mark just before starting my WordPress blog in early October and the book has been put on the back burner for now. My New Year resolution will be to get back to it and finally get it finished.

Another project languishing on the back burner is a photo book of a six month backpacking trip around the UK and Europe undertaken during 2016. I was meant to be getting right onto it as soon as we returned home. Almost 2 years later…..it seems I am still the king of procrastination.

Yet another project is to combine some of my photographs with poetry. Again, this is something that is partly under way with about a dozen poems under my belt so far.

BUT the main purpose of this post was to look at which of my posts have been best received from readers/followers so far – in order to guide me in the direction that my blog needs to take in the future. It would appear that you folks tend to like my travel related posts the best. Of the posts to attract “likes” reaching into the double digits, my posts about Paris and Barcelona scored the highest, followed by a review of Richard Laymon books, closely followed by a piece about beat writer William S Burroughs and another piece about Christmas. The next best liked was a couple of attempts at poetry. So I guess that gives me some guidance of what I should concentrate on in the future.

I’d love to hear about your writing projects destined for 2019. Please feel free to comment below.

Eulogy for the Poets (of old).

Whilst I agree that some poetry of old was as corny as a Hallmark greeting card. I do lament the passing – or apparent passing of the rhyme. And although I am sure that a lot of thought and agonising goes into more “modern poetry” – to an onlooker who knows little about poetry or poems (namely me), some of what these days goes under the guise of poetry can seem to be random thoughts jotted down in broken prose….to shorten the lines to make it look like a poem on the page……without the rhyming couplets etc.

I do however realise that there is merit in, and room for, all kinds of poetry and poets. I mean no offense. So….dipping my quill into the inkpot……here’s my Eulogy for the Poets.

When I was a child all poetry rhymed

But poetry like everything changes with time

Rhyming words on the end of lines gone, I suppose

Poems have been hacked and become chopped up prose

The mad poet swings the axe

Attacks the words once fluid

Now abrubt and angry rampage

Across the page, undisciplined rage

Against established system

Rebelious writers turn their backs

No more Ballads, No more Sonnets

Mindless acts, thoughtless hacks

Gone Wordsworth, Shelley, Tennyson, Keats

Trampled under heavy boots, pounding feet

Into dust

Great poets and poems crushed

Tradition down the toilet flushed.

And in view of my earlier statements above….by hypocritical contrast……here is, (in chopped up prose), an homage to Shakespeare & Company bookstore in Paris.

Octobers end

Golden leaves crunch underfoot

On pavements wet with rain

As Hugo’s gargoyles gaze down

Upon the riverbanks lined

With purveyors of nostalgic words

Swathed in scarves and coats heavy

Against the approach of winters promised chill

For winter brings death

But here in the Bards house of books

George Whitmans’ reality

Readers breathe new life

Into the written word

Literature’s dream lives on

Its pulse is strong

And ‘Beats’ to the words and worlds

Of Ginsberg, Burroughs and Kerouac

These walls a haven

To writers and artists in need

It is indeed the ever beating heart

Of this city that is…..Paris.