Day 27 - Starlight Gazing

Fáilte reader, welcome. You've landed on Day 27 of a 30-day blogathon - my wild, sometimes weird and dare I use the word, wonderful, exploration of what it feels like to write every day for a month, and of what I'm capable of producing during that time within the restraints of the rest of my life. We're closing in on Day 30, so I won't write reflections now. Suffice it to say - I've confirmed what I knew as a teenager. I adore writing. 

I'm Christine, your resident writer, cogitator, poet....I don't feel comfortable writing that, but I'm posting a poem here, so I'm permitting myself to write the word. I've been studying poetry since I was 7 - well, more specifically, poetry recital for competitive and examination purposes. One of my most favourite things in the entire world is to recite poetry. To recite poetry well, we have to understand the poem and the life of the poet. But you know, I still don't really understand what makes poetry poetry. 

I've been writing poetry since I was 12 or 13. I'd say I've written close to 100 poems in some form by now. Two, I had published as a teenager, though I can't remember the names of the competitions I entered to do so. I do recall doing a reading of one in the old Dundalk museum at one stage. 

Why Share This in a Post?

Fear.

I'm 41 years old. I've learned a lot about starting and stopping things in life. I've learned more about pain, heartache, trauma and suffering. I've learned more again about joy, pleasure, love and contentment. I have a lot more to learn. One thing I do know is that far too many of us let judgement, criticism and societal conditioning drive our decisions. While we're doing that, we stifle our creativity.

Fear fucks us over.

Fear of failure. Fear of ridicule. Fear of loss. 

Fear freezes us. 

Freeze and Flow

I started writing poetry to release my feelings as a teen. Life was wonderful and incredibly difficult at the same time. When there was too much inside me, one of the things I did to release the pain was write. Usually, I wrote in rhyme. The poets I studied, and their poetry, rhymed, so, my poetry rhymed. 

As I got older, I hid my poetry away, feeling like my rhymes seemed childish and simple - I froze. I stopped writing for some time. Then, while living in the Australian Outback for a year, in a very isolated place, I had a lot of time on my hands. Once my workday finished at 5 in the evening through to 8:30 the next morning, Monday to Friday, I was free. I did many things. One was write poetry, somewhat prolifically, I think around 27 poems in the time I was there. Words flowed. 

But are they poems? I don't know. One of them, very different to anything I'd ever written before, I was very proud of. I submitted it for publication. I didn't hear anything back. I froze again. Life continued to happen. I continued writing, but not much poetry, though there are probably some in my diaries. 

Discovering The Past

Where I lived in Australia once swelled the Eromanga Sea. Paleontologists have made discoveries there dating back 100 million years. I'll write about that in the future. Yesterday, one of my sister's kittens stood on my laptop and hit a button that froze it in time, so I took it as a sign that I wasn't to publish a blog post. But that means I'm one behind, so I need to do two to catch up. 

Today, I made my own discovery; one of my poetry notebooks from my time in Richmond. (another happening, I wonder?) Reading them takes me right back to those nights sitting under the expanse of the Milky Way in a blissful silence only punctured by the sounds of The Outback. Below, I share one of those poems with you. In the following post, I will share another. 

In keeping with the theme of yesterday's post being about phrases from Ireland using the word "eye," I have chosen to start with Starlight Gazing, written as I wallowed in the wonder of Queensland's vast beauty. 

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I lie and wish upon a star

and wonder how I've come

to be in such a wondrous place

alone, content and young. 

All around me stars alight

the vast and awning sky, 

whilst far below them, unaware, 

sleeping bodies lie.

So many never stop to pause 

and cherish a giant tree, 

or watch butterflies as they dance

on dampened earth with glee.

I wish for all on some fine day

to see through eyes like mine, 

the goodness all around them, 

Earth's gift, our lives divine. 

To know that always as they breathe

they are surrounded by a light

that in the deepest, darkest hours

helps everything shine bright.

To taste the earth through naked feet

feel the wind gust through their hair.

To stand alone on desert soil

knowing there is always someone there.

I wish for all to see these things, 

to feel what runs through me

the power of the Universe, love of Mother Earth, 

to live a life so full and complete.