102 poems written!!!
Poetry (pen) Pal #47 - what I mean to say
You might remember that back in January I launched this Poetry Pals project with the intention of writing 100 poems (for the fourth year running).
The project has meandered in new directions, which is actually exactly what I hoped would happen. I think most creative projects end up somewhere slightly different than planned. It means you’ve remained open enough along the way.
I plan to write a longer post sharing more on this, and tying up what I always said would be a year-long project. Which doesn’t mean I’m going anywhere. Absolutely not. I feel like we’re only just getting going as a writing community and having too much fun reading poetry to stop (I hope you feel the same). But I am enjoying playing with what might be possible. I imagine there’ll be some interesting new developments on the cards.
I’d like to play a little longer though, when I’ve not got Santa breathing down my neck (wow, that’s an unpleasant thought). I sensed this might happen, hence why I officially launched this Substack on 14th January. So we’re not there yet.
But I did reach my goal of 100 poems this week! In fact, a flurry of creativity led me from 99 to 102 poems in a day. Which made me grin. I am celebrating as heartily as I would if I had only managed to write 80 - which is to say, not that heartily because this was never the point.
However, what was the point was the process and oh my, have I enjoyed writing this year. I have REALLY enjoyed having others to write with. And I have read SO much great poetry.
So I am celebrating that.
I had also wanted to get braver with sharing my own poetry this year. Can I say that I have achieved that? Hmm. Maybe. But it’s a less clear cut answer. So, in a bid to finish up the year strong, in the coming weeks I thought I’d share some of the poems I am most proud of writing in 2024. We did a little of this at our final Poetry Circle of the year. It was marvellous.
These will mostly go to paid subscribers. Partly because I’m still working on my brave, ha. But mostly because I’m still hopeful that some of them will be published one day (still plugging away at that second poetry book) and so this avoids the usual nonsense of prior publication. Not to mention that paid subscribers have made this project possible over the last 11 months - I spend an inordinate amount of time on this ‘newsletter’ because I love it dearly, but I do need to keep paying the bills.
So to get started, here was the 100th poem:
I write very few poems about love so this felt like a highly appropriate 100th poem.
Thank you for being here.
Your Writing Prompt for This Week:
I’m still trying to stick to the lighter side of things. I think regardless of whether you celebrate Christmas, this time of year tries to ramp right up.
Here’s a simple prompt to play with…
When I tell you xxxxx (or you could mix this up with - when I do xxx), what I mean is….yyyyyy
I was thinking about this idea that sometimes what we say isn’t always exactly what we mean. Or has another layer that is left unsaid. You could even start with the line, ‘Most days’ if that helps you to slide you right in to some writing.
Hope you find a little space to write in the week ahead.
Nelly x
P.s I’ve not spoken about serendipitous poetry reading for a while but when I was writing the Friday post just gone (which goes out to paid subscribers - a round up of more poetry and a chance to share our writing) I was sharing some poems by Nikki Giovanni when I found this one! I found this one! So obviously I had to add it in to this post. Could it be MORE perfect for developing this weeks writing prompt?! Love it when that happens. This is Legacies, by the legend Nikki Giovanni.
My poem in response to your prompt:
When I
______
Most days, when I tell you "I'm just tired,"
what I mean is that the world has grown
heavy as wet laundry on the line,
that my thoughts have tangled themselves
into knots I cannot name.
.
When I say "I'll be there in five minutes,"
what I mean is that I'm still watching
the cardinal at the feeder,
counting his precise movements,
memorizing the exact shade of his feathers,
and yes, I know time is passing
but some moments refuse to be rushed.
.
When I tell you "It's nothing,"
what I mean is that it's everything—
it's the coffee cup you left unwashed,
it's the way autumn sneaks up every year,
it's how my mother's voice catches
when she talks about her garden,
it's the thousand tiny things
we never say out loud.
.
And when I say "I understand,"
what I mean is that I'm trying,
like a child learning to swim,
arms flailing in deep water,
reaching for something solid
in this vast ocean of meaning
between what we say
and what we mean to say.
Immediately sending your poem to my husband. Gorgeous. Thank you so much for this community, too - I’m gutted I haven’t been around much since summer really - turns out doing a masters takes quite a lot of time 😂 but I’m still sticking around for when I can swing by and I’m super grateful for all the inspiration and connections 🥰