My Poetic Journey

I never actively intended to be a poet; I never even considered that what I was doing was poetry. I loved words from a young age and became fascinated with the simple act of bringing letters together and learning their patterns. Part of me wishes I'd transferred this love more into other languages (but I suppose there's still time!) Especially since meaning changes and adapts when something is translated. I was intrigued at how words sounded in certain orders, and the way meaning was crafted in different ways. I still am. I like to experiment a lot with words, and it makes me feel that in a lot of ways, poetry is almost the 'scientific' form of literature. I like the fact that there are no rules, as such. No limitations.

So there I was, writing down thoughts and ideas related to how I was experiencing the world, and the emotions that came alongside that. It almost baffled me how most people in my school classes would actively shun poetry due to its heightened, often exaggerated forms of expression. This is precisely why I loved it so much. I started to enter school competitions for poetry, and was highly commended for poems I'd write in classes. I still remember the poem I wrote that made me more focused on it as a continuing hobby. It was called 'Light' and it was written for a competition in the school year. I explored light both as a source of comfort and destruction, looking at the different ways in which that theme can be perceived. I wrote this when I was thirteen, and I've attached it below.

From there, my confidence as a poet grew. I started using a small brown book to collate my poems (which I still use, it's not even halfway full!) However, over the years, there's definitely a few I've lost along the way, as they were written on random bits of paper that inevitably went missing. I started taking myself more seriously as a poet from aged fifteen. Whilst engrossed in the GCSE poetry anthology, someone who is now a very important person in my life, challenged me to write the sequel to Death of a Naturalist by Seamus Heaney. I would never usually plan a poem in this way, but this challenge intrigued me, and so I wrote a sequel which followed the same persona from the original poem, coming back to the flax-dam many years later, where his fear is replaced by an overall appreciation for evolution. And I like to think that the person who set this challenge was at least mildly impressed!

I suppose my poetry has undergone a sort of transformation and evolution of its own, over the years. I would say that a lot of my earlier poems were more direct in their approach, whilst nowadays, there is more of a deliberate ambiguity. My intention is to allow certain word combinations and phrases to exist as a way to offer reflection and internal discussion, which I feel I have crafted more successfully in recent years. Thematically, there has been more of a sense of nostalgia recently; for my childhood and school years, and so there's an obvious yearning for those times that has become more apparent. I have decided against putting the poems in the collection in chronological order, partly because I felt that was 'too easy' and partly because this collection isn't just about a single journey; it's many journey's which overlap. It was much more intriguing to go back through my work and see the unexpected connections and explore alternative orders, which would open up different possibilities for different people.

Over the years, I've entered several other national competitions, including Foyle Young Poets Award, and other more local ones. Despite never winning, I have been frequently longlisted, and this has given me the encouragement needed to continue on this journey. Whilst at university in my final year, I completed a module on creative writing, but struggled a bit to engage with the weeks which were poetry-focused. It was overly-analytical for me and I almost found it restrictive. Of course there needs to be a certain level of adherence when considering how to 'teach' poetry, but I think I've passed the point of desiring to be educated in it, and rather, seek to let it flow naturally.

And now...the poetry collection. Last year, I started to compile the basics of an idea for the book, and then by December, I'd made the decision to complete and self-publish it towards the end of 2025, giving me a year of planning and organising. It was a big step. It was ambitious. But those who know me well, know I'm certainly not phased by an ambitious task; rather, fuelled by one. It was time to turn my journey into something tangible. Something I can hold in my hands and say "I did this."

And we're getting closer to that day! This book is not just a reflection of my own poetic journey, but I hope, a reflection for many other people who find themselves at various emotional crossroads in their lives. Let them speak to you. Let yourselves live and breathe amongst the words. Let them guide you, like they've guided me.

Light

The light that strikes is the light that dies.

The light that glows is the light that blinds.

The light that glitters is the light that burns.

And the light that gleams is the light that survives.

Time stands still as I wonder

Hearing the sounds of lightning and thunder.

A lonely sun sits in her place in the sky.

A melting candle feels the wind go by.

The lightning grows angry with her friend, the Earth

Siding with the booming thunder since birth.

The silence is broken by a crack in the sky

and the rage of the clouds rolls on by.

A candle is terrified of the wind and the grey

Knowing that he is just part of their prey.

As the wax slowly drips, the orange flame slips

The fight is slowly drawing to an end.

Glitterballs twirl

and flashlights whirl

But planet Earth just keeps on spinning.

And when the sky grows black

and the stars come out,

He watches over our people.

Just like she does

when the sky is blue and the clouds shine white.