A Poets Point Of View
Safe Space
Where is your safe space?
I know the majority will reflect on a physical place or even a person. Surprisingly for me, it has never been either. It has not been my entire mind, because I tend to think my mind has a mind of its own. However, I found the other side of my mind is something I can get into. It is where my mind has set aside a creative space for me, this is where an in-tune version of myself escapes writing poetry and the stories I can only fantasize about. So yes, my safe space is my poetry rooting from the words I have been wary to speak aloud. Poetry may not be a place, but if I could choose to live inside the wild and free emotions that go into it I totally would. In a world full of mixed emotion and confrontations due to a lack of direct communication, Poetry has set the tone of clear visuals for expressing without regrets. For example, before responding to a situation that may have left me emotionally vulnerable, I write. I write when I am ecstatic, and I want to express my gratitude to who or what was the cause of that. It is safe to say I make no mistakes when articulating my poetry and how I feel. That is why it has been my safe space in this lifetime and potentially another.
What is Caterpillar to Butterfly Poetry?
Caterpillar to Butterfly Poetry is a term I have created two minutes ago. It is the feeling of once having writer's block or feeling stuck inside a cocoon, to suddenly having that burst of creativity to write and convey your thoughts. It does not always have to rhyme or even make sense to others. Just if it makes sense to you that is all that matters. I believe I have written my most admirable poems during my stage to becoming that butterfly. It is during these accidental splurges of creativity that I can accurately pinpoint what goes on inside the maze of my mind. So, because of this, I appreciate my writer's block, because what it did was have me think; so I can later transfer jumbled thoughts into a beautiful mess of wordplay. It comes not when you want it, but just when you need it to. Or at least that is what I pleasantly must tell myself, so I do not become manic in the cocoon stage of it all. This leads to asking what inspires the poetry.
Source: Young Post
What Inspires Poetry?
The knowing that you can create your own outlet to express what you have been second-guessing. Which is also one of my inspirations to write. Although there are various reasons for this sudden burst of inspiration to write, if I can name a few, it would be the realization that it does not have to be perfect in the eyes of those around me. A lot of the time what hinders writers from writing is the desire to want others to like what you have to say. When it should only be about sharing your most honest feelings. Once that nagging thought to be perfect dissolve it becomes easier to distinguish what you were writing for in the first place. Allow those inner reflections to be the loudest inspiration you need. Inspiration stems from what you already have inside.
Why Poetry Will Forever Live
Poetry is like the sweet voice of a mother cradling her child to sleep. It is calming to hear and at times, it is the words you need to be at ease. Poetry is those summer days you remember as a child where you shared your fondest memories. You remember the burn from the sun then the cooling feeling of the water hose your parents told you not to play in. Poetry is nostalgic in every way when you choose to listen. It is not a fragile as one would assume, it is bold and vibrant like the Open neon lights in a bar. When you think of a poem know it is the one great thing everyone from all different backgrounds can appreciate. In a society where it is normalized to disagree, the majority acknowledges the impact poetry has on our broken souls. To add a quick nerd fact, studies have shown that poetry triggers parts of the brain that strengthens the overall cognitive health; like when listening to a song in the car or attending a speakeasy for poetry night. Poetry will live forever because it joins us together when we are having to social distance. It is what you use to tell someone you love just how much you appreciate their being. Poetry will live forever because it is a part of us from the moment our sensitive eyes are opened in the bright light hospital room with cards plastered in each corner with a cute poem inside to welcome our birth.
Honorable Poets
Some of my favorite poems have been written by African American Writers such as the famous novelist and poet Alice Walker who’s “Nobody’s Darling” poem confirmed my entire existence. The riveting Zora Neal Hurston who is known for the novel “Their Eyes Were Watching God” that is considered a classic for the Harlem Renaissance period. “The Weary Blues” written by another leader during the Harlem Renaissance, James Mercer Langston Hughes. The poem is jazz without the sound of the smooth sailing saxophone or the catchy melody from the bass in the background. Poetry is the music without the instruments, and if written well enough; the instruments will be forgotten because the words create the greatest tempo there is.
My Greatest Instrument is the words I express so effortlessly on a thin piece of paper that is then transferred to the device you are reading this on now. From me to you, a poem that resides nearest to my heart.
I’ve fallen back in love
With someone who whispers enchanting words of affirmation with passion on their tongue as if looking at their own reflection
Someone who is gentle with my emotions as if to cradle them like a delicate child
Someone who is kind and soft on the eyes
Someone who’s denies all things misleading that charges towards my direction
Being my shield to reject hostile energies that has earned my rejection
Someone who looks at me and see exactly what I see
That I’m my own perfection
Created to be exactly who I am
Someone whose goal is to uplift and take the leading shift to become my peace
My sacred place and well-kept sanctuary
To take the strain of blood-red pain away
So they paint me blue for brighter and better days
And run down the long avenues from long ways to assist with finding my place
Someone who brings an understanding of life on earth
Oh, how I am so in love with her...
That girl who was once in a mental block foreign to the naked eyes of those around
The girl who would cry during a somber night
Only to beam a smile so bright no one had noticed the fluff and puff of pained eyes
The girl who was close to the edge but brought her self-back to a balanced ground
The girl who requires self-love to be a necessity
I think it’s time I write the words she’s been aching
Oh how I've fallen back in love with me...