It is almost time again for the yearly poetry group I participate in to once again begin posting our short poems to Facebook and/or Instagram (though I don't use Instagram anymore).
Post-it Note Poetry's group of poets has been writing tiny poems on post-its for ten years now. Some of us has even published some of our poems from the exercise, but the goal is to write and post a poem every day, and to give ourselves the permission and self-love to write crappy poems, so long as we write something each day.
Some years have been more successful for me than others. Some years I barely wrote five poems for the whole month. Other years were ink-fire! 2015 and 2021 were the best years for me. I wrote and posted a multimodal poem every day in the year 2015. In 2021, I went even further, writing mostly all Japanese short form poetry (haiku, senryu, tanka) and I wrote over 150 poems last year. I have not stopped either, although the flow has trickled somewhat.
This year, since it is the poetry group's tenth anniversary, they decided to do a theme. I am not a big fan of themes, as I feel that they tend to stifle my poetic spontaneity, if I'm always trying to write about a certain subject instead of what is on my brain and heart and soul at the moment. Sometimes, I come 'round though. Sometimes I see the synchronicity; the destiny of things. The little nudging of the universe telling me "this was meant to be."
The theme they decided on was "forbidden / desire." At first, I thought "UGH..." I mean, I can write stuff like that, but not every day for 28 days. But then...
I have been researching for quite a while now some very interesting and bizarre topics for an upcoming story/novel thing: monsters, aliens/interdimensionals, cryptids, the winged humanoids and people who may or may not shapeshift into these beings. Everything being speculation for the sake of "what-if-it's true?" and openmindedness. Few of us are born with open minds, we have to develop them like any other talent. I developed mine through a childhood filled with the stories of weird stuff that happened to other people and then through a young adulthood and adult life full of its own weird crap. And the Woo is a gift that keeps on giving, yes indeed. That's sarcasm, folks.
I have also been researching the people who love the monsters, and are obsessed with them and write about them or talk about them on podcasts or YouTubes. People kinda like me to a certain degree or beyond. People as strange as the monsters they seek...to the people who don't understand. They're not your average, cookie-cutter Joe's and Jane's. They're not those normy couch potato sorts who would never for a moment consider that there may be darker things than the shadows under the boughs of the trees, lurking in places deep inside those forests where they take the kids for camping and s'mores over the firepit. Darker things? Depends on your point of view. Definitely misunderstood things. And things that want nothing to do with the likes of the hairless beings who live in concrete and glass cages, with their nonstop destruction of the land, sea and sky.
Or do they?
What happens when we, the curious, want to know? Want to find out so badly what is in the deep dark places. What is the monster like? What does it love? What happens when this forbidden desire to know what lurks in the dark becomes an uncontrollable lust? What if "they" lust back? Are just as curious and thirsty for our mystery? And maybe more...
As I've been putting together the notes and research for my cryptid novel "So Lonesome I Could Cry" I had the wild idea about a month ago of writing poems about cryptids (not that it hasn't been done before). A whole book of poems devoted to a dark desire of giving oneself over to the call of the forest and the call of the forest-dwellers (that's probably been done, too, I don't know). At the start, I only had a title idea for the poetry book. I'd call it "cryptopoetica: love songs for unloved monsters."
Then, they announced that theme and I wasn't happy about it at first. But then I thought... "Maybe I'll write that cryptid poetry thing sooner than I wanted to."
I'm not even sure these poems I have in mind can be short enough for a post-it note, but since I do multimodal (pairing my words with images) I'm kind of a rebel there. I've got a busy editing schedule on my plate as well, so I'm not even sure I can write poems every day, but I'm going to give myself the freedom to "NOT" be perfect this year. In fact, there may be some days that I feel like writing a nature haiku again (I am planning a Florida nature haiku poetry book as well). But I do have some good ideas for some poems...ahem...love songs for monsters...already.
What's more forbidden than loving a monster? Throwing ourselves into the arms of the creature pursuing us. What would we learn from it? Maybe that the monster that is lurking in the darkness is really...
...a reflection of ourselves. We don't so much need to love the monster as we need the monster to love us. The girl in the red cape who willingly beds the beast? She may be a beast herself. And it may be that the wolf is the one who should really be afraid. There have been a few great writers who have turned that story on its head.
The night is full of dark terrors and the forest is full of whispering shadows. Did you hear that? Was that... a baby? Was it...an owl...no..? That's...
Something out there is calling my name...and I must go to it.
Oh, yes, indeed.
Post-it Note Poetry's group of poets has been writing tiny poems on post-its for ten years now. Some of us has even published some of our poems from the exercise, but the goal is to write and post a poem every day, and to give ourselves the permission and self-love to write crappy poems, so long as we write something each day.
Some years have been more successful for me than others. Some years I barely wrote five poems for the whole month. Other years were ink-fire! 2015 and 2021 were the best years for me. I wrote and posted a multimodal poem every day in the year 2015. In 2021, I went even further, writing mostly all Japanese short form poetry (haiku, senryu, tanka) and I wrote over 150 poems last year. I have not stopped either, although the flow has trickled somewhat.
This year, since it is the poetry group's tenth anniversary, they decided to do a theme. I am not a big fan of themes, as I feel that they tend to stifle my poetic spontaneity, if I'm always trying to write about a certain subject instead of what is on my brain and heart and soul at the moment. Sometimes, I come 'round though. Sometimes I see the synchronicity; the destiny of things. The little nudging of the universe telling me "this was meant to be."
The theme they decided on was "forbidden / desire." At first, I thought "UGH..." I mean, I can write stuff like that, but not every day for 28 days. But then...
I have been researching for quite a while now some very interesting and bizarre topics for an upcoming story/novel thing: monsters, aliens/interdimensionals, cryptids, the winged humanoids and people who may or may not shapeshift into these beings. Everything being speculation for the sake of "what-if-it's true?" and openmindedness. Few of us are born with open minds, we have to develop them like any other talent. I developed mine through a childhood filled with the stories of weird stuff that happened to other people and then through a young adulthood and adult life full of its own weird crap. And the Woo is a gift that keeps on giving, yes indeed. That's sarcasm, folks.
I have also been researching the people who love the monsters, and are obsessed with them and write about them or talk about them on podcasts or YouTubes. People kinda like me to a certain degree or beyond. People as strange as the monsters they seek...to the people who don't understand. They're not your average, cookie-cutter Joe's and Jane's. They're not those normy couch potato sorts who would never for a moment consider that there may be darker things than the shadows under the boughs of the trees, lurking in places deep inside those forests where they take the kids for camping and s'mores over the firepit. Darker things? Depends on your point of view. Definitely misunderstood things. And things that want nothing to do with the likes of the hairless beings who live in concrete and glass cages, with their nonstop destruction of the land, sea and sky.
Or do they?
What happens when we, the curious, want to know? Want to find out so badly what is in the deep dark places. What is the monster like? What does it love? What happens when this forbidden desire to know what lurks in the dark becomes an uncontrollable lust? What if "they" lust back? Are just as curious and thirsty for our mystery? And maybe more...
As I've been putting together the notes and research for my cryptid novel "So Lonesome I Could Cry" I had the wild idea about a month ago of writing poems about cryptids (not that it hasn't been done before). A whole book of poems devoted to a dark desire of giving oneself over to the call of the forest and the call of the forest-dwellers (that's probably been done, too, I don't know). At the start, I only had a title idea for the poetry book. I'd call it "cryptopoetica: love songs for unloved monsters."
Then, they announced that theme and I wasn't happy about it at first. But then I thought... "Maybe I'll write that cryptid poetry thing sooner than I wanted to."
I'm not even sure these poems I have in mind can be short enough for a post-it note, but since I do multimodal (pairing my words with images) I'm kind of a rebel there. I've got a busy editing schedule on my plate as well, so I'm not even sure I can write poems every day, but I'm going to give myself the freedom to "NOT" be perfect this year. In fact, there may be some days that I feel like writing a nature haiku again (I am planning a Florida nature haiku poetry book as well). But I do have some good ideas for some poems...ahem...love songs for monsters...already.
What's more forbidden than loving a monster? Throwing ourselves into the arms of the creature pursuing us. What would we learn from it? Maybe that the monster that is lurking in the darkness is really...
...a reflection of ourselves. We don't so much need to love the monster as we need the monster to love us. The girl in the red cape who willingly beds the beast? She may be a beast herself. And it may be that the wolf is the one who should really be afraid. There have been a few great writers who have turned that story on its head.
The night is full of dark terrors and the forest is full of whispering shadows. Did you hear that? Was that... a baby? Was it...an owl...no..? That's...
Something out there is calling my name...and I must go to it.
Oh, yes, indeed.
I will try making regular Progress Posts on this blog of my weekly poems as well as uploading some of them to my online chapbook little paper parasols when I have time.
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