Being in a field that relies on inspiration makes adhering to a strict schedule for creating works of art tricky. I find it difficult to force myself to write. My writing is very personal for me and as a poet I am moved by my emotions. I feel most happy and comfortable writing my ideas in poetry. Below you can read a poem I wrote about believing in the sweetness of victory in tumultuous times.
If I could take my dreams and bottle them up I would...just so you could sip from the
rush that awakens my soul.
The reason that crashes over and over, plunging you deeper with each roll.
Is a harrowing promise infused with tears ...and sweat, that only Hope can give.
Skin that tastes of salt ...dried and crusted... gathered from the far edge of where
these dreams live.
Do not be afraid of the journey and not knowing how.
The bruises and blisters collect, you can’t give up now.
The loneliness of the grind may be deafening loud.
But on you go...for you must... do not wait for the crowd.
Climbing, sinking, reaching, aching, do not save the proud.
For what waits at the top just out of reach is your ticket inside a soft golden cloud.
Do not... let it...float...away.
.Angelique Monet.
Vol 1 No. 2
I am not sure why I have always written in poetry and why it is a challenge for me to write plainly. Maybe I feel I will ramble on with the slurry of thoughts and not get to the point of an inspiring conclusion. Ahhh, the inspiring conclusion, the reason to continue on for me is the key to life. I live my life having hope in all situations and focus on the bright days amongst the darkest. If I had to draw a parallel, it’s similar to eating a freshly washed bowl of strawberries. They are plump, red, and beautiful. You take one bite and it is perfection. It’s juicy, soft and gives a burst of summertime that pulls you in as you devour the sweetness. Your hand reaches for the next before you have the chance to swallow the first. You bite with anticipation of a sugary wave but only to discover an unripe, sour, dry pallet of disappointment. Your inner voice whines “Ughhh I hate these ones!”. Yet you finish it anyways with hopes that the next one you bite into will be as sweet as the first. The idea and memory of the goodness will always pull you through the lackluster one bite at a time.
This is a how I lead with my craft. I am flexible, forgiving, and open for what is to come. I know that I have had the best and worst of experiences that ignite the fuel of my art. Maybe it won’t be today but tomorrow the sweet hope of victory awaits.
.Angelique Monet.