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Posts Tagged ‘personal’

It’s gratifying, really, to land yourself a tiny freelance writing job on the side. Since time immemorial I have wanted to earn money by writing… and experience deadlines.

A deadline is something that resembles a tip of a loaded gun pointed at your temple. Or a ticking timebomb. The deadline is something terrifying for me because I’m a bloody lazyass and it makes me want to curl up in a ball and whimper my days and nights away.

The deadline also forces me to do my best, even if it’s a last-minute best. I still meet the deadline ’cause I am so terrified of being a – quoth Twilight Sparkle – tardy.

It is quite easy for me to fall into the Pit of Desperation once the deadline is nearing its end. All because of me taking everything so seriously.

Instead, I ought to wind down a little bit, sip my favourite coffee, watch the clouds drift in the gray Irish skies and stop taking every single thing, every single moment of my life, every single mistake (be it a writing one or not) so seriously! This is what hinders me the most, to my mind.

This is what hinders my writing, my actions, my positive attitude.

So it’s best to remember that other people are not monsters and will not cut your head off if you don’t meet your deadline once due to personal problems.

 

What is more, the deadline set by a stranger is more powerful than the deadline you impose on yourself. So you have to give it everything you’ve got. In the end, it really pays off.

Stop worrying, self, and fill your days with reading and writing. It’s the least you can do to make yourself happy.

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I had a hard time choosing the right poem, you know? I was seeking one that would not reveal too much, nor be too vague. Had to have something in the middle; a balance.

With the written word I strip myself bare, admit things I would have never utterred out loud, even to myself. Some of my works can easily be deemed incomprehensible, however, they all serve a purpose: to make myself comprehend how my mind works. With the written word comes a bargain I couldn’t refuse.

The bigger portion of my poems orbits around forest imagery; around lakes, rivers, waterscapes; around the darkness, the stars and the moon; around mythical surroundings that breathe life into them. This are my ‘panic rooms’, so to speak. Let’s take all this one step further, then!


I TURNED TO GAZE UPON A GROVE

I turned to gaze upon a grove

Those quivering grasses

Tall to my thighs, palms of my hands;

Air claims the trees

As they sway in the liquid rhythm

The greens, the browns

Crouching between the grays



The grove in which I was born

The dryads have tended to

By force of habit, by rule of the forest;

Their giggles flew right to the bark

And crawled inside it, feeding, testing,

Gorging the treacherous tree-leeches,

Bankrupt gone the evil worm world


With sunrays detached from the sight

At times the core of the woods is gloomy

Its ghost-like demeanour

Stings the eyes

Of the newcomers who do not see the

Miniscule sun-symbols carved into the bark;

A lion’s share is what’s inside



I turned to gaze upon a grove,

Arrived to clean the branches

Render it unblurred and seemly

The perfect house to dwell in

The shift in space

And time occurred

And I – the fresh air – remain still

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