a very unfinished complete poem
the end of something can sometimes sneak up on us
Something unusual has been happening. I have been trying to complete a poem for about a month. Typically, if I can’t finish a poem in one sitting I will release it like a peace dove. I forget about the unfinished poem and I move on with my life. This has been my practice for the past four years.
I usually only write when the lightning of emotion strikes. Sometimes when the electrical charge from this bolt of inspiration isn’t strong enough for me to get the words out right away, I allow myself to not finish it.
It took me a long time to give myself permission to let go of things like:
Writing something that isn’t working.
Reading a book that I’m just not connecting with.
The hobby/activity that I insisted on doing despite the fact that it stopped bringing me joy.
I never throw away a poem that I give up on. I have created a separate folder that I call “Composting” where I place all of the discarded pieces of writing. I’ll even take individual lines that I pull out of a poem I’m going to publish and put them in my Composting Folder. Nothing gets deleted. No strikethroughs. It all just gets put in Compost - so, maybe when I see those words again it will spark something inside of me. I figure that there was a reason my heart wanted those words brought to life - even if just for a moment - and maybe they will mean something to me later. I have started a bunch of new poems from little scraps I have found in this file.
But for the last two weeks, my composting file is the same beginning of a poem that I just can’t get my teeth into. Yet, I feel so compelled to keep starting it.
The poem goes like this:
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Around the Campfire to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.