Oh, it's the first Friday Poetry on the new website! And in honour of that, I thought perhaps we could shake things up a little this week... so as you can tell by the title of this post, in that it's completely free of the poem's title, Friday Poetry is going to be a bit different than usual. ;) I've been writing quite a bit lately (because fall break is amazing and I do not want to go back to school) and this week I wrote something that I actually like a lot.
I've been experimenting with titles lately. Some of my absolute favourite titles in poetry are the ones that function as extensions to the poems themselves, rather than just labels. But I've also found that sometimes that means it's difficult to understand a title without actually having read the poem first - it just doesn't have the same impact unless you know the context.
So in order to hopefully alleviate that issue, for this week's Friday Poetry the title is written at the bottom rather than at the top of the poem. Nothing else is different - as always, suggestions and feedback are welcome. It's so wonderful to read your comments! And of course, I'd love to hear what you think of this new style - was being able to read the title last helpful to you, or would you prefer it if you could see it before you read the poem? :)
Wish me luck on my theory exam tomorrow - by the time I talk to you next it'll be over at last (!). I'll see you guys on Monday! xx
you’re paint spilling across a blank white canvas. blotted ink. eraser shavings. not quite washed-out lipstick stains.
but who wants to be perfect, anyway? masterpieces never did come from the hands of divine artists. you weren’t good enough for him, never ever good enough, but darling, who cares? did you ever think that maybe you weren’t meant to be his poem? ever think that maybe you could write your own story and be just as happy?
here’s something you should know: you deserve so much more than the unspoken words he gave you. you deserve sonatas and limericks. you deserve singing ringing syllables and someone who look at you and sees not a shadow, not a whisper of what once was and what might have been, but a symphony.
darling, forget about the sculpture he tried to mould out of the stars in your eyes. with or without him, everything you are is a masterpiece.
-- Maybe you could be your own muse