Welcome, Poetry People, to day 21 of National Poetry Month where I’ll be hosting a range of guest bloggers during April. Click HERE to see what you’ve missed so far, and please welcome today’s unique and talented guest Poet, Carrie.
Thank you, Carrie, for sharing your insight and poetry. You are pure Magic and Marvels to me x
…
I’ve made a bargain with the devil
A deal with a witch
To let me live forever
A deal they’ve promised to keep…
It took me a long time to embrace my voice and style of poetry. I didn’t want to be too morbid and I didn’t want gory. I wanted to be dark and haunting but slightly goofy. Something that you take seriously, but not too seriously – A reflection of the person I am. In the beginning I struggled a lot with people thinking I was crazy and depressed. Over time though and with slowly showing people my work, I realised that this self-doubt was unfounded. I wanted to explore our fascination and our fear of death and add in dash of hope. Hope is such a powerful emotion.
I love macabre artistic interpretations. Having only recently discovered the works of Edward Gorey and others, I have really connected to using humour and absurdity in my work. I laugh a lot in my real life and wanted to bring this across in my poetry. For me, poetry is about a specific moment, a feeling, an idea and a failing that is condensed into a few short beautiful words. Poetry cuts the unnecessary words and gives a picture that a novel would take 200 pages to achieve.
Death was Knocking at my Door explores the anxiety we feel when it comes to death and the instinct of wanting just a little extra time.
Death was Knocking at My Door
Death knocked upon my door,
on an otherwise boring day
I was in the living room,
and yelled “Can you go away?”
The Reaper became impatient
And stamped on the floor
I was on a long list of visits that day
And he couldn’t wait anymore.
I got off my chair,
Feeling slightly annoyed,
Surely death was nice enough
to wait a little more?
Opening the door I was surprised
to find no-one there,
Just my empty doorstep,
And a rusted armchair.
Puzzled and confused,
I went back inside,
I was so sure death was there,
And I was still alive.
It wasn’t death after all,
And I was very wrong,
It was just my own heartbeat
Beating nice and strong
…
© 2014 Carrie (http://magicandmarvels.wordpress.com)
Links:
Website | http://magicandmarvels.wordpress.com
Twitter | http://twitter.com/magicandmarvels
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