So today
marks day thirty of the ‘write every day’ challenge’ – It’s been an interesting
one, with a lot of ups and downs. It’s the challenge that I’ve ‘failed’ on the
most so far, in the fact that there were five days over the month where I didn’t
write at all. However, there’s no use dwelling on that. I have very nearly
filled an entire notebook full of scribblings, and I am now, for the first
time, reading them. When I come across a line/extract/passage I like – I shall write it
down unedited on here and share the love. Here it goes…
Day One
So I took a
step into the terrifyingly unknown
And waved
goodbye to the comfort of your embrace
And I found
I could
breathe
And the air
tastes sweet
(poem)
The most
depressing thing
About birds
held in captivity
Is that when
the doors of the cage are opened
They still
don’t fly away
(poem)
Day Three
Just imagine
where you’ll be
Tomorrow
When the
world is moving almost at the speed of light
It’s a
wonder sometimes
We don’t
fall off into the night
(song)
Day Four
I am
paralyzed by darkness
(poem)
Day Six
How is it
that we can blame the uneducated for their own lack of education
Call people
lazy and make them responsible for their own motivation
‘You’re Scum’
because we failed to help you find a vocation
When did we
become such a cannibalistic nation?
We feed off
of each other’s misery
And regurgitate
it into hatred
(spoken word)
Day Nine
I see that
you have found the one
Who fits you
so completely
That if you
were to part
You would
realise
You are not
whole anymore
You both
take and you give
And that
exchange has been rooted
And has
spread its roots
Into the
hearts of those around you
(poem)
And that the
footprints that you leave
In the
memories of others
Tell a story
as beautiful as you
(poem)
Thoughts
that are like diamonds
Scatter
through the wind
(poem)
Day Thirteen
Chemicals
strip you down
To your bare
bones
Your heart,
stomach and head
Feel like
stone
And acidity
Murky and
sharp
You wade
through the dark
You sleep,
waiting for the light
To wake you
up
(poem)
Into the
woods we go, your hand in mine
And I feel
so elated by your touch
That all my
secrets spill and stain like wine
(poem –
sonnet style)
Day Fourteen
When your head
is full of dirt and grime it is hard to find the will power to wade through it
all to find that one shiny penny you knew was there.
(passage)
Day Sixteen
All of my
problems are reduced to specks of dust
Which swirl into
the tornado that is the human experience
(poem)
She who
winds up the clock
Stops the ticking
(poem)
Looking out
on this beautiful day, Enra felt something stir inside of her. It started in
her chest, and shivered through her entire body before settling inbetween her
shoulder blades. It ached slightly, in that satisfying way your muscles ache
when you stretch them out in the morning. She wriggled her shoulders, but the
sensation lingered. Something bubbled under her skin. She tried to look round
but the tingling lay in the exact spot she could not see no matter how she
twisted and turned. She felt the rippling again, something swelling, stretching
the skin on her back. Pushing to get out.
(passage from a short
story)
Day Seventeen
Even in the
darkest day
When everything
you are
Is consumed by
the nothing
That clouds your
beauty
I will be there
(poem)
Day Nineteen
As her eyes
absorbed the twinkling of the stars, they began to shine with the smallest
swelling of dew drop tears. A bright silver light shoots across the velvet sky
and vanishes, leaving a glitter of hope lingering in her heart. She blows out
the candle with a whisper; ‘I wish’
(passage from a
short story)
Day Twenty
The
oppressive sky did not open on Enra as she walked to school, but she wore the
hood of her weather beaten old raincoat up anyway. She stared at her feet as
she walked, taking some solace in the steady rhythm the clicking of her heels
provided. Somehow, she felt surprised with every step she took that the ground
was still beneath her feet. A part of her believed (or perhaps hoped) that she
would suddenly slip through a crack and disappear
(passage from a
short story)
Day Twenty Four
The roots from
which we grow
Do not
define us but they are still present
I would not
be the person that I am today
Without my
parents
And everything
ever taught to me
By anyone,
which is everyone
Because every
word I ever heard
Has influenced
the way I think
I am a
product of my environment
And nothing
more
For every
thought I have
A seed was
planted long before
And to
change the way you think
Is to
acknowledge your own conditioning
Which means
opening your eyes
And really,
really listening
(spoken
word)
The crowd
gathers and sways
The lovers
embrace
And as the music
swells through all of our hearts
Theirs beat
as one
Somewhere far
away from the rest of us
We are just
the backdrop to their love
We are the
decoration to support the declaration that they make
He takes her
in his arms
And holds
her like she is the only thing worth living for.
And the rest
of us dance
(poem/spoken
word)
I am happy
here
Here where
everything is soft around the edges
Where the
textures are so rich and deep
I can sink
my fingers right through like treacle
This land of
no mirrors
Where you
only see yourself
Reflected in
the smiles of others
(poem/spoken
word)
(side note –
I performed the full version of this at shambala festival at an open mic and it
went really well. Three strangers came up to me later at the festival and told
me that they loved it. I nearly cried with joy.)
Day Twenty
Five
Secrets
being spilled
They soak
into our skin
And stain
our blood with fire
We boil and
bubble under the surface
Waiting
Grinding
through the dirt
Filling our
fingernails
Trying to
carve new paths
(poem/spoken
word)
Day Twenty
Nine
I want to
sleep in the trunk of a tree
And let the
rain wash my face
And the
ground toughen my feet
And the sun
burn my skin
And the wind
chill my bones
And the cold
bite into my heart
And freeze
it.
(poem)
Well. There we
are. I’m actually quite surprised at how much of what I wrote I liked. There’s
a few interesting points to be made.
1. I have not copied down a single complete piece.
Everything I have written here today is an extract from something bigger. In
some cases they are the only lines swimming in a sea of utter shite. In other
cases, it is just my favourite bit of a perfectly acceptable piece. There are plenty of days where I wrote stuff but none of it was good enough to put on here. It goes
to show it’s worth writing a lot of crap just to find a couple of good lines.
2. My environment massively effects how I write.
Looking over this, all my very best stuff was written when I was outside. Writing
in my cluttered miserable bedroom brought about no good. And also a lot of my
favourites were written during Shambala festival – when I was watching a lot of
spoken word and poetry. Surround yourself with art and it will bring out the
artist in you.
3. If I had not done this challenge, none of this
would have been written. Not a single word of it. By forcing myself into the
habit of writing regularly, I have managed to produce some half decent material
that simply would not have existed before. That makes it all completely worth
it (even if I did go a little bit crazy and depressed sometimes)
So where do
I go next? I want to keep writing, absolutely. I really feel like I began to
improve and get a sense of style towards the end of the thirty days. I have
some room in my notebook left. What I intend to do is take some of these
extracts I have picked, completely isolated from the pieces from which they
were extracted, and use them to create new material, hopefully better than the
originals. Be my own inspiration. And then, well, I’ll start a new notebook!
I’m pretty happy with myself. Result.
I’m pretty happy with myself. Result.
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