Every day in 2022 I’ll post six lines of unique poetry on Twitter, and then archive it here for posterity with some additional observations. Here is Poem #13:
I’ve just stopped for lunch at almost 2.30pm. Today has been full-on: three Zoom meetings, a workout session and a POdcast recording. I have no chance to feel sad on Blue Monday, there’s too much left to still be organised for that… plus I’ve bought underwear that I finally feel really comfortable in! Quick, order some more before you forget!
Every day in 2022 I’ll post six lines of unique poetry on Twitter, and then archive it here for posterity with some additional observations. Here is Poem #11:
I thought I’d broken my PC this morning, but it turns out that Firefox was broken for everybody. Today was the day I ruined my Wordle streak, and it was when 13 days of full on hard brain-based effort plus Monday’s blood donation finally brought me to my knees. Tomorrow will be better.
Every day in 2022 I’ll post six lines of unique poetry on Twitter, and then archive it here for posterity with some additional observations. Here is Poem #9:
Some days, you find yourself seeing the World through fresh eyes, often when you least expect to. Today has been like that for me. An awful lot has been done as a result. An awful lot more has been uncovered for the first time. It’s the right moment therefore to capitalize on my conclusions…
Every weekday in 2022 I’ll post six lines of unique poetry on Twitter, and then archive it here for posterity with some additional observations. Here is Poem #8:
The smarter of you will notice two things. Firstly, this is late, because today I got the priorities misplaced, and a lot of emotional stuff has happened between Friday and here. However, as it is now remembered, we’re back in the game. Secondly, this is now a Monday to Friday gig, so when I get overpowered again by emotion, there’s somewhere for me to go. For now, we’ll work on having this up tomorrow morning 😀
We’re almost ten days into 2021 and currently, I’m drafting 3-4 poems a day. This would appear, on casual investigation, to be both unsustainable and frankly ridiculous, when nothing is further from the truth. The source of all this creative fervour isn’t a change in diet or some wonderful exercise programme. It’s 9-10am in front of a screen, being inspired by the creative forces behind the Kendal Poetry Festival.
For me and about 150 other poets, The Writing Hours [Resolution/Revolution] is granting permission for us, as writers, to intentionally take time for ourselves every day in order to be stimulated and encouraged by reading other people’s work and participating in group activities. There is no formal structure, no workshops or feedback. It is just us, a pen or a screen, and wherever the mood pushes Kim and Clare to go.
It is also useful to know that an outstanding, emerging poet such as Hannah is also gaining so much from what’s being given, freely and often with a great deal of honesty and earnestness. It’s not just the facilitators who you’ll learn from, too. I’ve picked up countless nuggets of useful information from the chat room, and there’s already a Facebook group for those people who want to share their work to an understanding audience.
I’ll be honest, I’m being very selective on what gets shared. The work being generated personally is in my mind so good, that some of it has already been submitted to other places. One particular poem I would go so far as to say is the best narrative piece I’ve ever written, and as a result is now forming the foundation of the first serious sci-fi sub to a specialist magazine.
It is still possible to get tickets for Week Two onwards (use this link) and if you have a few spare pennies lying about it would not be hyperbole to state this is a fantastic way to start your day, not simply in the right mindset but with the benefit of a group of like-minded individuals to work and support you. If you’d have told me I’d be in a room of 150 people every day, starting my year like this a year ago, I’d have not believed you.
I’m already working out howto keep the momentum going once this all ends on February 1st.
Back in March 2020, just before the first lockdown hit, something happened that, it must be said, made me realize that whatever other people might try and attest, Twitter will never be anything other than one of the best things that ever happened to me. The story I am about to recount was first told on my personal blog, but is being repeated here again because, finally, I’ve begun to write the poem whose title is the same as this blog post. It’ll hopefully be done this month and then, I will share it with everyone.
Meanwhile… I feel some time travelling coming on…
Imagine, if you will, it is 1977.
I am 11 years old. I hear a song on the radio for the first time that immediately captures my attention: Ariel. It’s by a bloke called Dean Friedman: an American singer-songwriter, for whom that is, at the time, his only ‘major’ US hit. However, this is not about success, but quirkiness catching both my ear and that of a Radio One DJ I listen to obsessively: Noel Edmunds. Thanks to him, I am compelled to seek out Friedman’s second album ‘Well, Well’ Said the Rocking Chair and shortly afterwards I become obsessed with one particular track.
I still carry that same song with me, to this day.
It remains the quintessentially perfect piece of narrative storytelling: a breakup song to end all breakup songs, but not obsessing on what’s been lost, but how to pull yourself together after the fact. It’s uplifting and smart and has the most killer saxophone solo in the middle, but what keeps it fresh in my head after forty years are these four lines of poetry which, let’s be honest, have never been bettered:
Take a look at the place you call your home you’re reflected in all the things you own and the seeds of reason you have sown they’re a measure of a part of you that’s already grown…
Not gonna lie: for a good few years I literally carried those lyrics around with me too, wound tight inside a tea ball locket. I am happy to reveal that to you, dear readers, because I know we’re at that stage in our relationship now. It’s remains on a playlist that gets listened to weekly, and has been stuck into numerous other best of compilations over the years. When I inserted it into an online one back in March 2020 which was posted on Twitter, things started getting funky…
I can still remember the complete, abject disbelief when I first saw this on screen. Not only had the man whose song I’d made into a mantra for moving forward liked the fact I’d highlighted the song in my playlist, HE WAS NOW FOLLOWING ME. How was this possible, exactly? I didn’t @ him, he wasn’t directly mentioned in dispatches, but here he was, and remains. Dean’s still working online and playing gigs and has new songs out as I type this. You might move away from the people who influence you, but those people remain a constant regardless. In all the chaos we’ve now collectively experienced, it’s good to know Mr F remains one of the good guys.
I promised I’d write ‘Dean Friedman is Following Me of Twitter’ nearly a year ago, and the draft is still there, waiting for the right moment… and here I am, starting 2022 on a high. It seems the right moment to pay back a debt, too, so time and effort will be taken to ensure the final result is the right, fair and correct summation both of the story and his connection back to an 11 old girl who knew that, some day in their future, words would matter like nothing else ever could.
It’s taken a while, but I think I’m ready to do my pre-teen self proper justice.
Every day in 2022 I’ll post six lines of unique poetry on Twitter, and then archive it here for posterity with some additional observations. Here is Poem #7:
It’s been a week full of new possibilities. I started a Podcast yesterday, and it’s been more popular than I ever anticipated, and by that I mean 68% of the people who started listening to it actually finished it. The other 32% of people we don’t talk about. I will be spending the weekend celebrating my triumph.
Every day in 2022 I’ll post six lines of unique poetry on Twitter, and then archive it here for posterity with some additional observations. Here is Poem #5:
I cannot overstate just how useful it is becoming to take an hour every morning to just listen to someone else. Once this January writing course is over, I need to capitalize on the impetus and do other things, but for now I’m using the time to put down a solid foundation of WIP’s that can be used in February to maybe create a separate pamphlet, or used somewhere else… I dunno, possibly in a Podcast… ❤