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Posts tagged ‘poetry’

Creative Writing: Illness

Now as you might gather from the title, the creative writing that follows was difficult to write, harder to edit, and has been almost impossible to share. While I do on occasion write happier poetry, a lot of this writing was done, at least in draft form, while I was experiencing the worst parts of my illnesses. Which generally means I am not able to think of the positive nuances of being chronically sick. I promise to try to write more of that stuff soon as it’s not all bad I guess. Again,  I welcome critique but please especially with this, be gentle with the criticisms.

I will say that I was inspired to share this stuff because I finally watched the documentary ‘Unrest’ by Jennifer Brea. It’s heartbreaking, empowering…it might not be an exact match for my experience of ME but it’s an experience and seeing something so raw and true meant the world to me. So go and watch it, it’s on Netflix.

Filled

They say pain isn’t forever
Suffering comes and goes
But when hope fades and faith disappears
What else can fill me?

Symptomatic

Fog
It comes like treacle
Moving slowly, so slowly
Until suddenly
It’s swallowed everything
Fog
It devours
My memories, my speech
My own damn thoughts
My words
Fog
Closing in, growing thicker
It steals my understanding
Of how the world works
The very basics
I want coffee, but how do I do that?
How do I finish my sentence?
Was I even talking?
Fog
How can I find my way
When the shining guiding light
Is absorbed?
Fog
Chokes me
That goddamn fog

P.E.M

When it hits
And it will hit
It comes hard, it comes fast
The sheer weight
Drags you to the ground
Hooks and barbels
Pull
You should’ve expected it, should’ve planned
But fuck pacing
Push on
You can make it
The sofa is soft, cushions and blankets
Should make it better right?
That dead weight
Not just pulling now
But pushing
A collapsed ceiling, weighted down
It hurts, it aches, it kills

When it hits
And it will hit
It comes hard
It comes fast
Flare

(PEM stands for post-exertional malaise and is a driving characteristic of ME)

Chronic

Always there
I open my eyes and you’re there
My longest relationship
Never wavering
You won’t leave
Who am I without you?
These days I struggle
To even remember
My ever-present companion
I’ve tried to break up
But you always come back
I don’t fight hard enough?
Maybe
Maybe I’m tired of fighting
You’re there
Closer than my shadow
Growing larger
You strike my body
Inside to out
Inflicting
Chronic

Seesaw

I heard once
That bipolar is like a seesaw
Like in a children’s playground
I can see why they believe that
What goes up
Must come down
Hell, maybe I’d agree
If that seesaw
Went up to a burning star
And fell down
To the Underworld
Up. Down. Destruct.
Also
That seesaw?
Put it on a roundabout
That’s what they don’t tell you
It’s up, down, side to side
Loop the loop
Bipolar
It’s a whole damn fairground.

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Sharing Creative Writing – Poetry Edition

If you read my last post, you’ll have seen I shared my first piece of writing probably since I was still in education. Well I’ve shared a short story, and now I’m doing the only thing harder: sharing my poetry. My insecurity around this is super really high so if you aren’t into poetry that is still very raw then I’m really sorry for this tangent of content. But this is important to me, as is mental health awareness and outreach, as is talking about science, and gender, and feminism. This blog might be a bit of a jack of all trades but that’s probably a good summary of who I am!

So here’s three that I had typed up from my writing book. Enjoy and please let me know what you think (if you’re gentle!)

 

Storm A’Coming

Weather alert, flooding warning
Thunder and lightning, weather storming
Sky outside bitter & grey
It must end soon. We pray
Rumble above and a flash of light
Clouds rolling faster, gods shout and fight
It darkens further, yet it’s early day
Animals restless to go out and play
I make my way slowly outside:
I dance in the storm
Cry in the rain
Lose myself
I refuse to hide.

Process

Cold blank nothing
Glaring whiteness
Cursor beating like a cursed heart
Write write write

On it blinks like a mockery
Hours wasted on “research”? Please
Social media, nothing nothing
Writers block, head in hands

Type type type
Write write write

Beats of a drum
Demanding, do it now
Work time now
Complete me

Life

Is there life in a graveyard?
I’m not trying to be funny, or witty
But why else erect stones and monuments
If not to draw out the living?

Some columns have fresh flowers
Cards and pictures lined up too
If nothing else they brighten up this space
Until they collapse and are washed away

In a graveyard of course there are trees
And grass and birds and insects
These lives don’t understand the rules and expected behaviours
Ivy pulling on stones, cracked, lying broken

Is this life surrounded by death?
I’d suggest rather the opposite
Though we will pass and what we know will pass
Life, whatever it is, will find a way

© Kathy Hadfield 2017-2018

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