Friday, 22 June 2007

frustrated writer

writer, because i write, frustrated because nobody reads me. i am not in print, i am unpublished... not that i have put much effort into attempting to be published. as well as being frustrated and a writer, i am also exceedingly lazy.

i wrote as a teenager, anxiety ridden and spotty , if i must be honest ... not that spotty, definitely anxiety ridden! i mean, us girls grow boobs and whilst your average girl may be delighted to shop for her first bra, i was not. then there are the fluctuating hormones, the raging, the crying. your parents change overnight, they become impossible, there is no understanding them. so yes, i wrote, morbid poetry jotted down on scraps of paper, revealing my tortured soul. lost now, those words... real life happened, hormones settled and i moved on, into a life of happy domesticity in the suburbs .... now that is another story!

november 2004, i met my muse and i started to write. even my innate idleness did not prevent the unending outpouring, the word smith was unleashed and there was no turning back.

recently, i have lost my muse. not in the "putting the muse down somewhere and forgetting where" no, no ... more in the "the muse cried ...enough! i need to lose you" vein. naturally rather hard for me to understand, but, looking at it from the point of view of my muse...
living and loving an impatient, arrogant poet. a word spinner who exists between the darkness of despair and the euphoria of the merely manic. who knows, might be exhausting. myself i would have thought ... interesting, exciting, exceptional... ah well. as tracey from big brother uk 2007 would say " deal wif' it!"

without a muse... is there such a word as "museless"? there should be, i find myself in that very situation. what to do with the word overflow ... blog it man! i may write truth or fiction, poetry or prose, i may write of my past, my present or my future. i may write of my insights, my inspirations, my joys and my tragedies. but blog it i will and send it out into the ether of the internet for you to read. you will be my muse ...

for your edification and hopefully...your delight. allow me to introduce myself...

my life

i sleep i wake
i give i take
i ask i know
i learn i grow
i search i find
i'm cruel i'm kind
i laugh i cry
i wonder why
i see i hear
i sometimes fear
i love i hate
i accept my fate
i follow my road
i carry my load


i search the stars
i love fast cars
i notice beauty
i do my duty
i help the weak
i am not meek
i run i walk
i love to talk
i sometimes pray
i praise each day
i save i spend
i borrow i lend
i'm proud i'm humble
i sometimes grumble

the universe has gifted me a life of gentle recklessness
it flows and ebbs and i have learned to accept
pain when i must
and joy with gratitude
my life has always provided
love and acceptance
in overflowing abundance
friends and family
surround me with the energy of their love and protection
and for this loving bounty
i am endlessly thankful
for in the love of others i find my own strength

2 comments:

Adam Oellermann said...

On the Utility of Muses

The Muses were kids of Mnemosyne Titan,
And Zeus, and we think that they help us with writin'

This leads us to worry, to stress and to fret
That our muse might just tell us to losted to get

If you're one of those whoses whose muse said "get lost"
And you fear for the price that your writing will cost -

My comment's to bring you superlative newses:
Such wonderful writers do fine without muses!

- Adam

peter said...

mwah...