Out of rage my words are wrought

[bluepalm]

The most recent post below has struck a nerve in me. The word rage is what did it. Years ago I wrote a poem that expressed the way I sought to turn my turmoil of confusing feelings into something outside me over which I could feel some control. I found that I could gain some relief by putting into the concise form of a poem my feelings of anger and emptiness, my unmet needs and unfulfilled longings.  The poem I wrote to describe this process of writing a poem has stayed with me to help me through countless times when I sought human connection and failed to find it and I had to retreat to holding myself together once more.

I have recently read a wonderful book by Gregory Orr called 'Poetry as Survival' which I thoroughly recommend to anyone wanting to explore the process of writing poetry in order to survive. I found it a thoughtful, comforting and inspiring book. And now I'm reading his book called 'A Primer for Poets & Readers of Poetry'. I dearly wish I had found Gregory Orr and his writing much earlier in life.

This is what I wrote all those years ago:

Out of rage
my words are wrought
to bind my pain
   in parcels
and hurl it into the void,
and hearing no echoing splash
yet have the courage
   to know
it was real, I am.

[RiverRabbit]

"Out of rage
my words are wrought
to bind my pain
   in parcels
and hurl it into the void,
and hearing no echoing splash
yet have the courage
   to know
it was real, I am."
    - Bluepalm

It is hard to keep knowing these things are real.  We have been convinced they are not... convinced to "just play along"... "laugh along"... "go with the flow"... "don't make waves"... "stop being so sensitive".

I like the self-affirmation of this poem.

[bluepalm]

Thank you for your response to my poem and for what you have written in your posts RiverRabbit. Your words resonate with me.
bluepalm

[RiverRabbit]

Bluepalm,
These are literally the first few poems I have written in almost 30 years. 

I pretty much buried this part of myself.

It is only in the last year that this part of me has been fighting to come back into the light.

As I write, my inner critic is telling me how pathetic it all is.  I write anyway.  But then I have to fight a new wave of self loathing.  I am hoping this gets easier.

It is very affirming to see that others see these in a better light than my critic.

[bluepalm]

RiverRabbit, please keep on writing. The first poem that I wrote over 30 years ago was almost incoherent and started off with the following words, describing how I felt at that moment:

'Rage breaks out of me
tears my skin open...'

I went on from there to write more poetry over several years, fitfully, but grateful to be able to put my words down outside myself. Then for a long period where I had to work hard in the outside world I couldn't write; I had to bury it because I couldn't engage deeply enough with myself - it destabilised me in the everyday world too much. Now, after a recent crisis, I've started writing again and it is your words and those of another forum member that have helped me start again because what you write resonates with me. So thank you. Your words reached me and helped me. So tell that to your inner critic! Please keep writing. I'm sure if we have the impulse to do it that it's good for our souls to do it. I'm now feeling very grateful that I kept the poems I wrote so long ago. I feel they are a valuable expression of who I am, regardless of whatever (if any) literary merit they may have.
bluepalm