A little over a year ago while scrolling the vortex that is the internet I stumbled upon this website, never had I thought of myself as someone who was eloquent in their writing but somehow the words came to me (what a cliché I know). What I lacked in my heart, I am convinced was the stimulus that made the words flow and there I was contemplating posting something that I had written weeks back, so exactly a year ago today I posted my first poem, I’d like to think of it as a mere writing, I have never considered myself as a poet but if I am ever so lucky to be squeezed into a group of poets, I’d be delighted. It’s been a pleasure to be exposed to a variety of poets whose words I resonate with and draw inspiration from.
Below is Pieces of string the very ever first writing I posted on here, an unedited, inferior piece of writing but I’d like to believe I have gotten better this past year.
Thank you for your kind words that fuel moral and make one have faith in their abilities. To you all I say keep scribing, as will I.
PIECES OF STRING
Pardon me if this does not
make any sense
Do you ever feel like you
spend your life constantly
Putting together pieces
Of broken string
You never really solve
Any of your problems instead
you just mend where there are
loose ends but the knot is
never tight enough to last long
because at some point the
string breaks and you repeat and
repeat and…..
Do you ever feel like a piece of
string…
Liable to break,
You once were strong
You once had a resilient mind
Now every little land slide
Causes you to break
And each breakdown is
Different because the more
you have them
The more they take a toll on you
Crushing you
Leaving only what’s left of you
A scared little girl with a soul
That was once full of life but now
Just shrivel and cold.
Hundreds of pieces of strings
are strewn on the floor
And they resemble how you have
failed to control and contain
your life.
They resemble tried and failed ideas that did not
work out
One solution fails you
grab another string
To put your life back together
It fails
you grab another one
And so on.
What happens
When you run out of string? Disintegrate?
No
Because you’ve done that a
thousand times already
It’s all a vain attempt
To escape yourself
So you fantasize
About hanging on a string
You quickly dismiss that thought
because even though
You don’t know who you are
You do know that is not
The type of person you are
You decided to stick
around why? Curiosity. That is
the reason you’re still here.