Many tell of superb tales;
Written, read by many.
From grim to wondrous fairytales;
Fictitious or uncanny.
Stories told or read alone;
They pull us towards a world.
Conceived of ideas stemming forth,
From minds still deemed unknown.
Though we know the author’s name,
Or pseudonym, if any.
We only know the words they chose,
To tell their unique stories.
There is a lesson here, indeed;
Correction: “Slice of Life”.
The words they write, and which we read;
Only echoes from a mind.
The mind is grand but has some faults.
Like dwelling over poor results.
From moments filled with grim frustrations,
To awkward, angered altercations.
These moments are gone but still are within us,
Swaying our thoughts and predispositions.
Let those troubles slowly fade,
And fill your mind with calming waves,
To wash away those grim dismays.
They might be back another day,
But you’ll be ready either way.
I wanted to share a little more about myself. Mainly, I wanted to talk about a chronic condition I have. To the best of my knowledge, it’s pretty rare and unfortunately there is no cure or treatment for it. This condition is called a Dural Ectasia, a benign growth in my spine that presses against the largest nerve in my body. This, in turn, causes me chronic back pain that is quite considerable. So, since poetry has been a big help to me, I wanted to share my story in poem.
—
For every morning of awaking,
There is a constant, painful aching.
Which causes me a short debating,
Of waking up at all that morning.
Then I realize I’m defeating,
My own health and well-being.
The pain is there and never ending,
And, therefore, it’s quite frustrating.
I’ve spent a year or so now, coping.
The realization rather daunting,
Of chronic pain that’s unrelenting,
Medications, only dulling.
Marijuana slightly masking,
Pain that’s sharp and unforgiving.
That’s enough, I’m done with moping!
My time is better spent enjoying,
Life and everything worth knowing,
Calling me to keep exploring.
Now self-pity is just boring.
So, I think, I’ll keep enduring.
I’m very happy to report that I’m under 300 lbs for the first time in over 15 years. So I felt like writing a little poem to celebrate. I really appreciate the support you all have given me over the past month and I hope I can keep pumping out these fun daily poems for you all.
—
There comes a time in every life,
Where fate will bring you pain and strife.
Our history, we can’t re-write.
Our future, though, can still be bright.
Armed with hardships big and small,
We want to rise before we fall.
Strive to improve, just a little, each day.
The past may start to fall away.
But your resolve is there to stay.
Ever since I heard Texas Flood by Stevie Ray Vaughn, I knew I had found my favorite genre of music. The way his fingers danced along the fret board, bending the strings with ease and purpose to make that beautiful instrument sing. Hearing those beautifully melancholy melodies along with the pained and emotional lyrics from the man himself really was awe-inspiring for me. The dedication this man had for his craft was extraordinary; pushing the boundaries of what musicians were capable of and inspiring countless others during his relatively short career.
His music, along with many other blues legends such as Albert King, has been a bastion of salvation from the chaos and tragedies we face during our lives. With strings and a voice, they channeled their joys, suffering and frustrations; sharing their woes with the world in hopes of lightening the burdens we constantly carry. This is why I love music, and the countless benefits of expressing yourself by doing what you love.
Whenever I think about writing, I always remember the first story I ever wrote. I was maybe six or seven years old and I was playing around on the computer. This was in the early nineties so I basically had a word processor, “Return to Zork”, and a few educational games to play around with. The word processor was incredibly boring to me at the time, so I mostly spent my time playing solitaire or one of the numerous educational games my grandparents installed on our PC. They weren’t anything special but I do remember a few of them quite vividly. There were games that tested your boundless knowledge of mathematics and photographic memory. Well, maybe that’s just what they felt like to me at the time.
The game that really interested me had a whole package of different educational mini games and a word processor. The word processor was the most interesting bit about this piece of software, as it came with a whole lot of wacky ways to spiff up your word document. The moment I saw the wide array of goofy fonts, I immediately set out to write the most words I could to see them. What started out as a jumbled mess of letters and numbers soon transitioned to full words and sentences. After a few days tinkering around with fonts and learning how to type, I started thinking about the stories my grandma would read to me before I went to bed. They would always captivate me as I listened, cozy and snug in my bed. I wanted to create awesome stories too. The next evening, I wrote my first story.
I don’t really remember the details but the general plot of the tale revolved around my brother and I riding in a school bus. There was no driver or passengers on the bus, since I didn’t really think to write them in. It was just my little brother and I going to a haunted house in a school bus. Once we got there we got off, waved at the bus, and made our way up hill towards the haunted house as it drove away. We busted down the door to reveal only darkness.
The rest of this story is a bit of a blur but it ends with my brother and I crashing through a window, clutching a package, and tumbling down the hill. It was a narrow escape from that mysterious manor and I don’t remember what was in that package… though I do remember it was important.
I like thinking back to that story sometimes as it reminds me how awesome writing can be. You can take a fun little idea in your head and put it on paper, or in this case a wacky little word processor.
I’d love to hear your stories of how you got into writing, or basically anything that piqued your interest at a young age!
Bedsforth 