Have you ever read a poem that explored a disturbing event or followed a character doing unexpected and dark things?
Did you stop to wonder how the author did it and why?
Good writers allow the darkest elements of humanity to rise and be explored.
Everyone has an element of darkness. Most of us bury it, ignore it.
A good writer will dig it up, examine it, and then wonder how it could be made worse.
Using your own fears and dark bits is hard.
It makes us vulnerable. Exposed.
But it is powerful in storytelling
For example,Meet Madison, a young poet who has been honest about her own inhibitions to writing dark things, but she worked through them and delivers examples of her struggles that were very effective.
Most of us are happy, smiling people. What makes us different is that, behind our cheerful normality, lurks a willing fascination with the collective darkness of the human experience.
It’s the stuff good stories are made from.
Introducing a poem “Sometimes”
I am a dead battery in the tv remote.
I can’t change the channel.
I can’t adjust the volume.
Sometimes the noise is deafening.
Sometimes I can barely hear it.
Some days I wonder why I keep watching,
And other days I wonder why I would ever stop.
I am the moon drifting through the velvety darkness of night.
You’ll only ever see me glowing,
But part of me is always dark.
Every morning I hold my breath
To allow the sun to breathe.
Sometimes I wonder
Why is it that I can’t shine in the sun’s light?
I am a house of cards,
Fragile, ready to collapse at the slightest movement.
Even a whisper of wind could knock me down.
Still I add more cards,
And gamble with gravity.
Sometimes I wonder when I’m going to fall,
But sometimes I wonder how tall I can grow.
I am a worn out book
My binding is falling apart.
Some of my pages are ripped or torn
Because I trusted the wrong people to treat me with care.
At only 15 chapters in, the end can’t be near.
I try to focus on enjoying the story,
But sometimes I hope it has a happy ending.
I am a powerless seed,
Buried deep underground,
Left to rot under the dirt- but I am strong.
I will push through the soil that suffocates me
And I will grow so tall
That sometimes you will forget
The helpless seed I used to be.
Brilliant ~ Thank You, Madison for sharing this beautiful poem ~