If you’ve never tried writing a poem, you’re missing out. There are few things that can help me work through my emotions more thoroughly than a nice, indulgent poem. I will say, however, that you need to be inspired to write. I’m not talking about the green-fairy induced inspiration that bohemians used to chase down the Absinthe bottle. I mean that you have to have something heavy on your heart. It can be great sorrow, great joy, anger, envy, love, hate, any combination of emotions, really. It can be a person, an event, a cute puppy.
I hope I’m not alone in feeling things so strongly that it seems as if something is literally crushing your heart in your chest. As you can see, I would definitely identify myself as a poet by nature if neither by practice nor talent.
I firmly believe in the therapy of writing. My prayer journal revolutionized my relationship with God and I have been know, on occasion, to write scathing letters to my future husband whenever I’m feeling particularly angry and thinking that somehow my singleness is his fault. I tried to write him a love letter once, and it went a little something like this: (Hit it!)
I am so happy that our hearts are intertwined. Congratulations on getting through all the walls I built up around my heart. Yeah, that’s right. While you were out and about doing GOD KNOWS WHAT with GOD KNOWS WHO, I was sitting at home, alone, waiting for you. Not to mention getting my heart broken a few times for good measure.
But I’m like super happy we’re together now. Always and forever. I love you.
That was an exaggeration, but still surprisingly therapeutic. Which is the point. I save some of these letters, but I rip most of them up and throw them away. Sometimes you just need to vent your frustrations. And that’s why writing exists.
I really like poetry because not only does it help me work through my emotions, but the form itself allows me to be as vague or as specific as I wish. It also gets my creative juices flowing, which I really appreciate because I love being creative and I also love juice.
Did I mention bad poetry is more therapeutic than good? Because it is. Don’t let yourself become concerned with writing something “good.” Just write. You can always rip it up and throw it out.
So here’s a small smattering of what’s on my heart today.
I’m broken, torn to pieces,
My heart surrounded by walls of stone.
But I’m frightened when I realize
I’d be better with you than I am alone.
I see your gentle spirit,
I see your heart most kind.
And a part of me most selfishly
Wants to make you mine.
You seem so good and I so bad
Though we both imperfect be
We soon are made, by perfect Love,
Into the versions of us most holy.
The darkness others have put in me
I never wish to put in you.
So I’d rather you see through me,
That my heart can break anew.
For I don’t believe in love
Beyond He who made me whole.
So this sudden, rushing hope
Has overrun my soul.
Conflicted and restricted,
Heartbeats and butterflies
And future looks into your eyes.
Mocked and locked,
Swallow the key.
Holding hands and stolen kisses
And maybe the future mister and missus.
And with that, I think we have enough intrepid angst for one day.
“Christian, you may see me only as a drunken, vice-ridden gnome whose friends are just pimps and girls from the brothels. But I know about art and love, if only because I long for it with every fiber of my being.” –Toulouse-Lautrec (in Moulin Rouge), and, subsequently,