Tag Archives: writer’s block

Small but significant

26 Mar

There has been many thoughts swirling in my mind lately, too many to find words for them. Big changes are happening, like the news that I get to move to Scotland next September to study in University of Edinburgh. I am so excited!

But today, I found my words again. I found my way back home, back here. The feeling was quite magical.

I was sitting on a bench by the sea, gazing out to the horizon. Wind started blowing wilder and as I sat there, I took a moment to just empty my mind. I closed my eyes for a while and I tried to inhale the light of the spring sun climbing higher. Slowly, the insides of my eyelids became patterned with patches of blue light. I assumed this to be the sky shining through to my vision. But as I opened my eyes, I found that the sea had broken free. Where before there had been just a vast, blank canvas of ice, a distant and cold glacier, there was now the sea. It was deep blue and it spread. I stood up and as I gazed at the sea growing, I felt that I was in a right place, at a right time. I belonged but I was free to go. I thanked the sea for making me feel whole.

Just before the sea broke out in the distance, I took this photo with my phone:

2013-03-26 13.49.39

You can see that little black figure on the left, under the big cloud? Not much bigger than a black dot. Smaller than the rocks, smaller than the skies. Well, that is you and me. That is a human being. Small maybe, but significant too. Cherished for its ability to love, for its foolish pleasure of treading on the ice. The ice, it carried this person into safety, into the land. Only then did the sea free itself.

And it reminded me of how we are part of this whole entirety, how it carries us in its chain, even when we feel or act like the weakest link. And of how we should always respect the nature, for we belong, for we are enveloped by it.

We can choose to be the sun’s mirror. We can choose to be a willow’s branch, bent by the wind but not snapping.

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Landscapes of loneliness -Daily Prompt: Flawed

13 Dec

Today’s Daily Prompt: Flawed:

What is your worst quality?

I worry, a lot, too much. It stops me, makes me halt. It makes me hesitate, agitate, doubt. It has even stopped me writing for the past week. Post per day, that’s how it used to be, now it’s turned into hiding a post per day. I just want every dot to be perfect.

But this time I just decided to let it go. Here, I have poured all my worries out for you. I hope you can relate to it. No, actually, maybe not. I don’t wish ‘over-worrying’ to anyone, it makes everything so tangled up inside your head.

So instead, I hope you like it.

 

Landscapes of loneliness

 

A straightjacket of thoughts

clutching at me, biting at my cheeks

To silence me, as I dwell

In my imagined landscapes of loneliness

 

Everchanging, freezing glaciers

Melting into choking sand dunes

I tiptoe across this Sahara of sore memories

Like blisters pulsing under my skin

 

I’m falling deep down

Into Marianas Trench of my mind

Into misery and doubt, losing touch

Your touch, and all sight of reality

 

As  I imagine all my bad guides

Pestering fears and throbbing shivers

Shaking my heart, turning it into flaking plaster

Under the weight of these worries

 

What am I?

 

Lost, worrier or a warrior

Hopes in hiding, longing for love

Searching for a gateway, crying out

For the light winds of freedom

 

Inspiration perspiration- sweating over creativity

2 Dec

 

What inspires you? Where do you draw passion and ideas from when you’re not surfing high on the wave of creativity? What melts your mental blocks?

 

To me, it’s probably nature, the harmony and strenght it possesses. But since we have gone from Winter bliss to winter blizzard:

The view outside my window on Friday morning. The obscure blur is the snow falling every which way possible.

The view outside my window on Friday morning. The obscure blur is snow falling every which way possible.

 

I have found refuge in art instead.  Munch is one of my all time favourite’s, although not the most cheerful bloke he surely does know how to express sentiments with colours! I just love the feeling in his paintings, so aching and melancholy. Also, one of the reasons I love music, art, literature, poetry, all of it, is because it shows beautifully just how original and yet how bound together we all are.  Your visions and feelings and ideas on the artwork below might be totally different from mine or from Munch’s, and yet as we both look at it, we are connected by it. Isn’t that quite miraculous?

 

Girl on the Bridge by Edvard Munch, I do not own any rights.

Girl on the Bridge by Edvard Munch, I do not own any rights.

 

The feeling of connection, the feeling of being part of something and of belonging,  is a precious feeling. I think it might just be happiness, or the root of it. Because we weren’t created to be alone.

And that’s why I got together with Hasty to write another poetry duet for you! I hope you enjoy reading it, and feeling it, as much as I enjoy writing them. Poetry duets have totally surprised me, they’re like a breathing dialogue of inspiration, so enrichening! And they always give you new perspective to writing as well. And isn’t that just what creativity is, a fresh angle or an idea?

Or what do you think, how would you define creativity?

 

Free falling

by Hastywords and me

 

Your mourning, blue lips

And the searching transparency

Of the morning light

Pushes us under the rhythm of life

 

Free falling, closed eyes

Into desecrated fields

Bodies sleeping cold and blind

Waiting for the ghosts of truth

 

All those gaunt prisoners on display

Stalking roads and alleyways

Worn out too many times

By your trembling feet, by mine

 

Spiral clouds melting daylight

The moon covered in dust

Seekers find refuge in memories

Hiding trauma behind their eyes

 

Unseeing days, blind nights

Static, empty landscapes like

Blank kaleidoscopes of the past

Washing out the mermaids of rebirth

 

My red lips of blazing fire kiss the land

Torching the rotting decay, then I cry

Upon the sand, springtime to start again

Filling reservoirs of revival in their minds

Romantic Monday: Unravelling (and writer’s block, the devil)

12 Nov

It has been a bit quiet round here. As much as I would have loved to post, my self-criticism has stopped me from writing. During the weekend my worry-free expression seemed to turn itself into a nitty-gritty, grammar picking, nasty perfectionist troll whenever I tried to write.

I wrote a post which I then trashed. I wrote another one. That  one I published for an hour or so (progress)… and then trashed it too. Every blogger’s nightmare-pattern was emerging.

But now that my trash folder has been fully fed for a while, I told myself: This is not going to become a vicious cycle. Today I’m going to write.

Because today is a special day, today is another Romantic Monday. And no way am I going to let fear of failure and silly doubts spoil romance for me. That is a good advice for both writing and love, I guess.

So you’re going to get a poem today. And I also have a photo for you, to shoo away your writer’s blocks and console you if you too have been struggling and wordless:

Photocredit: southernfriedchildren.blogspot.com

So whether it is a blog, NaNoWriMo or a particularly vicious essay you’re working on, just write! Even if you’re scared, even if it all comes out as a waterfall of gibberish, don’t let it stop you.

You have potential. Don’t stop believing. (I’m sorry if you now have the Glee version of that song in your head.)

And now I’m going to practise what I preach. So here is for another Romantic Monday! Yikes, I hope you like it!

Unravelling

I do not know your lips

The tumbling currents of words

Flowing behind them, the wild winds

They have so boldly met or

The raw, pulsing secrets of life

They hold in hiding

Your lips are a mystery

And yet, I do not fear

Their uncertainty, their silence

And the painful erosion they can bring

I do not fear to trace all the seams

Of this frosty, fragile beginning

Simply because your lips, they exist

And they could be my shield

And their smile my jewel amulet

They leave me gushing

Like I had a jolting baby bird

Jailed inside my chest, still warm

From being born into its nest

Your lips unravel me

They invite me, they hold my breath

Call out my emotions

On a tight thread, on a journey

To become the pilgrims of your heart

And my laugh follows yours

It is a soft-sounding wind chime

So gently struck by your lips

Fooled into singing

This post is part of a beautiful Romantic Monday-craze, find out more about it here.