How writing poetry helps me heal and focus

December 6th 2022 | ~ 3 minute read

Introduction

I always loved poetry. To me it's the best literary form, more so than prose or indeed any kind of writing. It's an attempt at capturing emotion on paper. Recently I decided that I'd try writing some myself as a way of conveying what and how I feel.

The process

I find purposefully writing to be a challenge. I never know what literary devices to use, how to make a cohesive structure, which words to use, etc. I work best when the words just come by themselves, as if my mind was just a channel for my thoughts. Therefore the themes expressed in my poems are what I happen to feel at the time.

But what really works for me is when I use my poems as a way of expressing my darker side. The fatigued, the sad, the broken and mournful. It's a way to deal with these feelings and place them out in the open. I find that kind of vulnerability liberating. You feel naked at first, like the whole world is watching, but it's a good kind of nakedness, it helps me heal and gives me a reason to get out of bed every morning.

The poems

With that out of the way, here are two poems I wrote when I was feeling particularly down and confused.

The Void

I woke up to another day
What do I see?
Same old faces, same old problems
This life is so unkind
I long for more
For so much more
Yet here I am, trapped

The void grows ever larger
My heart races to fill it
Until it can't
Until all I want is but a memory
For someone else to remember

This is a tough one. The main theme is the inability to connect with others, the void between people and the resulting dissatisfaction with the sameness of one's experience.

Dream

A pale reflection
A broken mirror
A shattered heart

Devoid of color
Devoid of passion
Devoid of will
Devoid of meaning
Devoid of life itself

With emptiness deep
With horrors unspoken
With darkness consuming
With blood unclean

A dream
Just a bad dream

This one I wrote after a pretty incoherent dream. All I remember of the dream is a sequence of nonsensical black and white images, abstract and devoid of meaning. This is the one where the words just started flowing uninterrupted. It's a powerful feeling.

Conclusion

I want to end this one by saying that I'm not a poet. I don't know if what I wrote is good or bad and I'm not sure it even matters. All I know is that I feel a lot better after writing these. I guess that's all that should matter.