Wind-up

I swear

I was born

with a wind-up winch

in the middle

of my spine.

It gets cranked and

twisted,

’til I am tense

with the strain of it.

But instead of running or jumping,

I unravel.

 

I’ve been meaning to do a wrap-up of NaNo for this year, but I didn’t feel like it today. Here’s a poem I recently wrote instead. I hope everyone’s doing well.

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An update and a cool poem

Hi, everyone. I hope your Sunday is considerably brighter than the drab, grey day that mine is. Just wanted to, as the title suggests, update you on how NaNo is going and share a cool spoken word poem I found on youtube.

I’ve reached the point in NaNoWriMo that I am ready to do just about anything but write any more. For instance, yesterday I drew a rendition of the cover art of the Broadway production of Anastasia. It doesn’t help that I’ve been writing incredibly tricky scenes that have a great bearing on how the story plays out. I’ve been thinking about these scenes since I started thinking about this story a few years ago and it’s hard to get them right because they’ve been in my head for so long. It’s starting to get better, though, so I just need to keep pushing through. If you’re writing for NaNo or just writing in general, keep going! We can do it!

And now, here’s the poem. Have a great week, everyone.

To my neighbors

You built this house

with all these fine,

wide windows

yet your curtains remain

drawn,

your blinds closed.

Why, when

you have such

a lofty vantage point

do you shut out

the view of the world?

As some of you may remember, I have a great fondness for windows. My neighbors have such a beautiful house but they never take advantage of their windows. That makes me sad.

 

To certain someones

You said I had beauty

in me

but you

couldn’t recognize

the beauty of me.

They say

only one

kind of beauty matters,

the beauty found within,

but I’m not sure

that’s true.

Even the holiest of holies

must have

a home

and what is more holy

than a heart and soul?

I say, next time,

don’t give me a half-compliment.

Love the full me

or get out of my sanctuary.

I hadn’t written a rage at my exes poem in a while.