Tag Archives: Poetry

To My Baby Self

I have been thinking a lot about my life in the context of premature birth. It may be because I’m currently reading For the Love of Babies by Sue Hall, a neonatologist writing about her experiences treating preemies and other sick babies.

Today I also came across a writing prompt for PTSD survivors, to write to yourself before any trauma occurred. Since my trauma started right with my NICU experience, and I’m over most PTSD symptoms now, I will instead write to my baby self reassuring her that things’ll be okay in the end.

Little baby, born too soon
You feel so insecure
But let me tell you, you’ll be fine
Of that I am sure

You are too young to realize
That you are here to stay
In this world that may be harsh
You will be okay

Times are hard on you, you feel
So often in pain
If you could tell me, would you say
That your life is in vain?

I will tell you, it is not
Your life is worth the fight
I am your older self and feel
That you and I came out alright

Some people may think of you
That you should not survive
But guess what, you did exactly that
And I am here and thrive

You will have many hardships ahead
But please persist and cope
I will wait here to remind you
Not to give up hope

Expressing Myself

Today the Daily Post’s prompt is Express Yourself. I find this a fascinating prompt, and could write on and on about expressiveness and the way I express myself. I write, mostly. Writing has been a hobby of mine since elementary school. Back then, I wrote mostly fiction. I have a few kind of weird tales and a lot of autobiographical fiction. Unfortunatley, as I got older, my skill didn’t get better, so by age eighteen or so, I quit fiction writing.

I trid poetry for a while. Last Thursday during art therapy, the therapist asked whether I wrote poetry and whether she could read one of my poems. They’re not great. In fact, with the exception of a few recent ones, my poems lack metre or rhyme. My older poems are so bad that I’m actually sort of proud of the acrostic I wrote a few months ago.

In addition to writing, I craft. I have tried my hand at art journaling, but have not succeeded. My cards and jewelry are pretty down-to-earth in their design I’d say. In fact, I’m not sure I’m all that imaginative in any of my expressive modalities. That doesn’t mean I don’t have a rich imagination. I’m just finding it hard to express it.

One thing that holds me back is the fact that the more imaginative works aren’t necessaarily the more beautiful ones for me. As I said, my poems, which usually express my authentic feelings, lack metre or rhyme and are little more than emotional diarrhea jotted on paper. Not something I’d like to post on my blog. And something I’ve noticed lately, is that I have a very hard time not sharing something I create. I even have a hard time keeping a private journal and, not havng found a suitable desktop application for it, I ended up with a protected WordPress blog which I ended up giving a few people access to anyway. Maybe I need to relearn that some things belong to me and are not to be expressed to anyone outside of me.

Acrostic: Self-Care

I usually check out the blogs of people who comment on mine, so today when This Busy Life commented, I went to hop over and read this post. It was written based on a writing prompt from Lemon Drop Pie, anoher blogger I had discovered earlier this week. The theme for this week’s spin cycle (which seems to be a sort of link party) is your word for 2014, and today’s prompt had bloggers write an acrostic poem on it. I had to read both This Busy Life’s acrostic and the example in the prompt to decipher what an acrostic poem is. For those who don’t know and want a straight-out explanation: an acrostic is a poem or other form of writing in which the first letter, syllable or word of each line, paragraph or other recurring feature in the text spells out a word or a message (Wikipedia).

I am not sure whether I can add my post to the spin cycle (the Linky tool is inaccessible), but I’m going to try to writ ean acrostic on my word for the year, which as I’ve said previoously is self-care. I’ve not written poetry in years, but we’ll see what comes out of my fingers.

Self-desturction may be an issue
Eating disorders, self-harm
Letting yourself suffer in silennce
Feeling not the least bit of calm

Care for yourself this year though
Allow yourself to let go of the past
Reclaiming your life through self-care
Empowers you to feel free at last