Poetry: it\u2019s either a word you love or fear \u2013 there is rarely an in between. Memories swarm of an overly enthusiastic English teacher looking as though they\u2019re about to combust at the mere thought of iambic pentameter. Alternatively, you may\u2019ve fallen in love with the raw creativity and complexity of poetry as a way to navigate yourself through episodes of joy, pain, grief or love. As creativity is blooming throughout this isolation period, it\u2019s the perfect time to explore the expanding world of poetry, and maybe give it a go yourself!<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I have curated examples of locally loved poets who are pushing the boundaries of \u201ctraditional\u201d poetry, moving into the realms of social and political commentary, mental health issues and addiction. These poems detail anecdotal yet relatable subjects and reset the teenage mind\u2019s construction that poetry is only written by boring rich people from the 1800s.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sleep Paralysis<\/strong> by Keelin Brook<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n Withering stares fall upon the sheets, Moonlight soothes pale sweaty skin, Uninvited faces form in the darkness of the room, This written poem is my own quick piece of work inspired by my lockdown induced dreams, which are currently running a bit too <\/em>wild for my liking! As much as I welcome inspirations for creativity, ones that disrupt my sleep are a little irritating, so I decided to voice my frustrations in poem form. In terms of the creative process, I knew that I wanted the first letter of each line to spell something if you read them in a downwards fashion, so I wrote \u2018WAKE ME UP\u2019 and formed the rest of the poem from there!<\/p>\n\n\n\n Spoken poet Millie-Jane regularly shares her poetry on stage in her home town of Oxford and has shared with us her favourite piece that she has written: a poem titled Bereavement Sticks<\/em>. She explained the creative process for this poem to me:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cBereavement Sticks came from a string of consciousness. All I knew when I started writing was that I wanted to write about smoking and how it was a structure to my day. Before I knew it, there was this jumbled messy story of cigarettes and the process of finding happiness on my page. I chopped it up and edited it a bit and then shared it at my next open mic. This random little piece about my craving for nicotine has become a favourite amongst my family, friends and the people who come to watch my sets. This piece was a breakthrough for me both personally and professionally. It has continued to grow and evolve over the years and I look forward to seeing where these jumble of words take me.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n
A scratchy throat, dead arms, a quickening heartbeat.
Knocking is the wind upon glass window,
Eyes prick with tears as ears catch footsteps below.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Edging closer, the creaking settles within.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Paralysed, yet waiting for slumber to resume.<\/p>\n\n\n\nMillie-Jane Ayris<\/h4>\n\n\n\n