What if I’m not lost? What if I have been carrying around the truth beneath my skin? What if in the past, when I looked up into the blackened night, searching for a beacon, pleading for guidance my higher power waited? Lying dormant in my heart, she patiently, silently, lovingly waited for the right time to awaken, to be known to me. I asked too soon for a revelation, I know this now. I had lessons to learn, mistakes to make, demons to burn, a journey to take. My heart needed to shatter and heal, my eyes needed to see the world without rose-coloured glasses, without a whimsical shield to blind me. My legs needed to be dragged along different paths, to lead me to this place. Now, my higher power is here, she is alive and listening. She whispers in the night and day, reveals her wisdom to me. She lights my soul with burning embers. Like sunbeams, hope shines through my eyes again. Gratitude runs through my veins. I am who I was meant to be. She had a plan all along. My higher power knew I would crumble, she knew I would fall, but she also knew that I would rise again. – EJ
A world divided, living in a digital matrix, under a veil, day after day. Slaves to our own comfortable routines. Easy, want it, need it, click of a button. Protecting our own hearts, the lives we have built. Millions of human lives, a kaleidoscope of divergence. An array of stories being told through one lense of time. Then, change. A bane is set free. Spreading through the world, it eliminates, menacingly praying on the weak, tearing human lives apart. But we are courageous, we have kindness in our souls, hope burning through our spirits like wildfire. We are human, we can get through this. Stay strong, believe in togetherness, believe in community, the world will continue to shine, even after its darkest days – EJ
I am a lighthouse, a beacon of positivity. Dark clouds may loom over me but I am strong. The sun may depart to make way for the moon but I am strong. The storm may surge, lightning may strike, but I am strong. I could fall under the waves, almost drown, but I am strong I am a lighthouse, I can always find the light again – EJ
What is a poet? Woken by a whispering muse from dusk until dawn a sculpter of words, an artist who paints words that can set a soul on fire. What is a poet? The yearning to feel, to decipher the meaning of the world. A poet is a vessel of love, a carrier of pain. A poet is a creative spirit craving definition. I am a poet, a label I am proud to unveil, a word that elucidates – me. – EJ
A few months ago, I was pondering the idea of posting my poetry online. For me, poetry has always been a solitary activity. I would scribble rhymes and metaphors onto paper, close my notebook and I would never read it again, never mind letting other people read and comment on it. Then, I decided that if I ever wanted to publish a poetry book (which has always been a dream of mine), then people would ACTUALLY have to read my poetry, right? Now, social media has its advantages and disadvantages. When you post something online, it is there forever, you lose control of where it can be shared or saved. This scared me a little, when I thought about my vulnerable musings being there for the whole world to read.
I lost my way as a writer for a long time. I have spent the last seven years of my twenties living my life, experiencing the good and the bad, I would write from time to time but never took it seriously enough. I do believe I am finally in a place not only to write again, but I actually have something to write about. Poetry has been the way I have expressed myself from the age of five. I’m not exaggerating here. From the moment I started school, even if I couldn’t articulate and write my thoughts down yet, it was there. I would make up stories in my mind and I had a lot of imaginary friends. Once I knew what rhyming was, I quickly started making little poems up and I loved it. I actually remember my first poem I wrote down on paper, I was seven years old.
In March this year, I created a poetry account on Instagram @EmmaJanePoetry, I wrote a poem on paper, typed it up, placed it on a colourful background and clicked upload. I could feel my heart thudding in my chest as I waited. What have I done? What if people don’t like my poetry? What if people are mean and say hurtful things? What if I’m never taken seriously as a poet or a writer because I have posted these words on an Instagram page? My stream of worries disappeared when I saw what happened next. Slowly but surely, people not only started following me and reading my poetry, they commented on my writing ability, told me that my words spoke to them, made them feel something. I had personal messages from people commending my poetry and asking when I was releasing a collection. I’m no Rupi Kaur, I have 387 followers. But I don’t want to be an Instagram influencer, I don’t want fame and fortune. I just want to write poetry and have someone to share it with. I want people to read my work and Instagram is a good place to start.
I’ve just watched a poetry documentary on YouTube about the ongoing debate between academics and young people who disagree on whether the Instagram effect on poetry is a positive or a negative one. It’s what inspired this blog post. I believe that there is space for everyone in the writing world. Commenting on whether poetry is “good” or “bad” is completely subjective. Poetry is personal for the reader. Yes, there are people on Instagram posting two or three line quote-type musings and calling it poetry. Let them. Poetry has never fit into one box. I have read some classical poetry that academics rave about and I thought it was useless drivel. But hey, that’s my opinion.
I think the real problem here is not about the definition of what a poem is, it’s about technique. As a Creative Writing graduate myself, I had to study poetry, learn about technique, different styles, how to create imagery in a poem. I took the time to learn about my craft. I think some writers are angry that young people, with no writing skills, are stringing a few generic phrases together, posting them online and calling themselves “a poet.” I get it, I really do. But like I said, there is space in the writing world for everyone. Spending time ranting about it just makes you an insufferable snob in my opinion. Compare this idea to art. You have your Mona Lisa portrait, that is considered to be one of the greatest portraits in the world alongside a modern piece of art, a few crisp packets hanging on a piece of string. One person may love classical art, so they deem the crisp packet art as rubbish, unworthy and unoriginal. However, some modern artists may respectfully admire the Mona Lisa but prefer unique and unconventional representations of art such as the crisp packets. Poetry is no different. We all like different things.
What I have noticed since I became a part of the Instagram poetry community is there are some extremely talented poetic voices out there, that would have never had their work read without social media. They may not have the confidence to go marching up to a publishing house and say, “publish my poetry please.” By sharing their work, they are receiving a positive response from their readers and this increases their confidence in their writing ability, what’s so wrong with that? Artists and writers want the same thing, to get their work “seen.” We live in a world with social media at the centre, we can choose to embrace it or ignore it, the choice is ours.
Poetry is changing. I know that by posting my poetry online, I am accepting that this is the 21st century and culture is adapting to be part of the digital world. We now have many platforms to share our words with millions of people. Why not utilise and use it to share our art, whatever that may be? We live in a society that likes to put labels on things. It makes us uncomfortable if we don’t categorise or explain something. If someone ever branded me as an InstagramPoet or an InstaPoet, I would politely correct them. Not because I would be ashamed of that label. I would tell them that yes I publish my poetry on Instagram, a social media platform. I also post it on Facebook, my blog and Twitter. But I think of that little girl, with her notebook and pen, writing poems about her imaginary friends and I smile. I always have been and always will be, no matter where I share my poems, simply… a poet.
Another year has passed. It has become a tradition for me to reflect on my life for the past year, the night before my birthday. Tomorrow I turn 27. It’s a strange world that we are living in right now. With a global pandemic, lockdowns across the world and an unpredictable virus taking people’s lives, this birthday I am filled with gratitude that I have a home, I have people who love me and I have my health. So this birthday is a little different, I have to stay indoors and celebrate it on a smaller scale, but I’m okay with that. You see, in the post I wrote the day before my 26th birthday, I talked about already feeling fulfilled, about learning to let go of things I can’t control and focusing on the present moment and the small things in life I am grateful for. I am happy to say that I continued on this journey of gratitude and light this year.
In September, I decided to go back into the classroom. I took a role as a teaching assistant, believing that even though teaching was not the job for me, the classroom was still an environment I thrived in. I couldn’t have been more wrong. There were many reasons I left my most recent job, I won’t go into the details. But something inside me was telling me to move on. I didn’t belong. I don’t know how I knew. I just did. I had to walk away. Now I don’t see it as a failure. I see it as a lucky escape. From a life that wasn’t meant for me. Since I left teaching, I often find myself repeating this phrase to myself “I can do anything but not everything.” It keeps me grounded and reminds me that it is okay if something is not for you, it’s not a failure but a lesson. Then I ask myself, what can I learn from this experience?
Well, what I have learned is that I am a free spirit. I am someone who becomes restless in one place for too long, I crave change, I need to be stimulated, I always want to try new things. I may have changed my mind a lot on what I want to do and what I think my purpose is during my twenties so far, but isn’t that what this time is for? Everything I have done is part of my journey. Since my last birthday, I have been focusing on my wellbeing and working on myself. My energy has shifted from what career or job I want to have, to what truly makes me happy. I started going to therapy and I worked through a lot of issues that have held me back for years. I made the crucial steps towards battling my anxiety and depression once and for all. There many other factors alongside therapy, but I can say for certain, I haven’t been this mentally strong in a long time. I am calm, centred, more creative and overall I worry less about what direction my life is going to take. What will meant to be will always find a way. I’m not saying I won’t ever experience mental illness again. But I now have full confidence in myself that I have the right tools to recognise the signs before I end up in that place again.
Also, in the last year, I have started my own small craft business called Positive Stitch. I started stitching as a hobby. In January, I started selling cross-stitch and embroidery gifts and I love it. Stitching is therapeutic for me and I have always loved creating things, whether that be a piece of writing, art or a music. During the last few months, I have found my creativity again. I am writing poetry every day and working on editing my first collection. I am practising my skills on the guitar and ukulele and singing a few times a week. Life is good right now.
So on the eve before my 27th birthday. I want to just take a moment to look back at how far I have come. Remember the mountains I have climbed to get here. It may have taken years of struggle but I have found my strength. I am happy, I am thankful for the present moment and hopeful for the future (whatever it may hold for me.) Now I can’t predict what will happen in the next 365 days of my life. But as long as I believe in myself, follow my intuition and appreciate the love and happiness that surrounds me, I’ll be okay. Happy Birthday to me, here is to many more to come!