Yesterday, we had a workshop on managing emotions with the wonderful Richmond and Kingston lot. We talked about how it can be useful - if you’re feeling an overwhelming emotion or find your mind returning to one incident or emotion again and again - to write poetry as a creative outlet. Putting things on the page can be a really effective way of letting it out, and using imagery and metaphor can mean your poem is personal, but at the same time not too revealing of specific situations.
The poetry that came out of the session was fresh, honest, and beautifully crafted. Thanks to the generosity of our participants, we’re able to share these poems here.
Thanks also to Lemn Sissay and Holly McNish for some snazzy poetical inspiration!
Sleep is a peak, whilst tucked safely under your sheets.
You walk among the clouds at a high,
Constantly worrying out falling like the pie.
You drift between the ceiling and the sky,
Feeling as alone as the boy in The Life of Pi.
Tucked away, buried deep, all the things you cannot speak.
I wake, I bake, forgetting everything to feel great.
Anger is like coffee, it doesn’t always come in black
I felt it as I stood in the room,
My heart slowed down and a sudden calmness overtook me.
I took a step forward and took a swing,
I felt shaken and weak.
Sadness is like a drug.
When you first take it you want it all the time…
When you leave the body and escape the real world…
When you sit and wonder what life is around you…
It’s like you’re on autopilot and you don’t know what to say or feel…
When all emotions leave and you felt late nights
When the sofa is eating you alive and there is no escape....
When you wake up one morning and you ain't got no-one left,
When there is only you and a remote control…
Feels like the controller is you…
You only use it once or twice to switch off and on…
Sadness is like a drug.
When you take it you want more and more…
When you are alone…
When you’re standing in the middle and you’re on autopilot…
When your heart stops and you can’t breathe…
When it’s you and your drug you cannot escape…
...This never-ending cycle
Anger is like a biscuit:
You dunk and dunk to clear your mind,
And get to the end and get sludge.
Like come on, seriously.
Only time will tell how many dunks you do
And your mind wanders so you get fussy and fancy,
You throw stuff away and give up,
You make another cup and try to keep an eye on dunks,
But still at the end of the day you get sludge.