Maleigh is a senior literary and an iced coffee enthusiast. She enjoys writing nonfiction and poetry but hopes that her affliction for short fiction will one day subside. In her free time, she can be found scrolling through Pinterest or with her beloved cat, Manny.
I often describe myself as a perfectionist, as I always strive for excellence.
However, lately, perfect seems overrated and unobtainable. I mean, I know it is, but it doesn’t feel worth it to try anymore. “If it can’t be perfect, why do it?” type beat. I’ve been meeting my goals, but I’m barely hanging on by a thread. I’m not proud of any of the work I’ve created recently, and I feel like a failure, so I ask myself: why do you keep why trying?
Why does anything I write matter if it’s not the best– if it’s not perfect? I’ve been producing work here lately that I’m ashamed to put my name on, and I don’t know how to deal. I try, and I try, but nothing feels good. I’m in this funk that feels like I’m drowning, and I can’t catch my breath.
The pressure of perfection lives on my shoulders, and it is so heavy, and I can’t carry it all. But I think acknowledging this has allowed me to let go, to release some of the pressure.
I used to think being perfect was some sort of flex, and maybe it was, but now, it’s a hindrance. I keep trying to be perfect, instead of just doing what I love. The lines have blurred, and now I can’t tell the difference, but I have to keep moving forward, perfect or not.
Here are some affirmations that I read often to keep myself motivated:
If graduation never came, I’d be okay with that. I’d be over the moon, jumping for joy.
I hear my friends, who are also seniors say things like, “I’m so ready to graduate,” or “I can’t wait to be in college,” but I can’t help but cringe at them. I have absolutely no desire to graduate or leave high school.
I have spent the past 4 years in total bliss. I truly believe people when they say that these are the best years of your life because they have been. I’m not particularly “popular,” but I’ve always had a really great group of friends and people who support me. If my classmates were to describe me, they’d probably say something like, “Maleigh’s that weird, overexuberant girl that’s always planning events and making cheesy jokes,” and I am okay with that. I know who I am, and I’m not ashamed of it.
I am ashamed, however, of being someone who peaks in high school, but I’m afraid it’s too late for that. I just simply can’t imagine that things can get any better than this amazing life. People say high school is overrated, but it’s my safe haven. In school, I excel. I may not be valedictorian or in the top 5 of my class, but I make good grades, I’m in a ton of extracurriculars, teachers love me. What’s not to love? Not to mention, I’m student body president which, I must add, was one of the best things to ever happen to me. I can’t express how much I truly love being a leader and getting to plan things and make things happen on campus. It’s one of the most rewarding feelings to serve the student body of MSA, and I don’t want to have to leave that behind.
Yesterday, after writing that, I felt compelled to visit the counselor. I was really struggling, and I’m not usually one to ask for help, but it seemed like something I needed to do.
After our visit, I left teary-eyed, but I also left with having told another human being how I was really feeling. Too often I swallow my emotions and force a smile no matter how I’m feeling, so it was a huge step for me to admit my shortcomings, or what I think are shortcomings, and be unashamed to say them out loud.
In my house, you just don’t talk about these things. Everything must be kept private, concealed, but what if we did talk more? What if we acknowledged that we are , in fact, riding the struggle, or have been for far too long. Because, at that point, we are taking the first step in taking care of ourselves.
Yesterday, I took the first step, and I talked to someone. I said, “Hey, I’m not okay,” and I was met with open arms and unicorn encouragement cards (Thanks, Mrs. Harlie). So, take that first step, and take care of yourselves.
Now, I’m still not completely sold on the idea of this not being my peak, but I have moved closer to accepting that and reminding myself that this is only the beginning of greatness and that there is so much more to come for me.
So, maybe I won’t be the girl who peaks in high school or maybe I will, but today, I am choosing to just be a writer, to just be me.
I am writing this as our first week after hybrid comes to an end. To say this week was stressful is an understatement, and I don’t think I realized, until this week, how many hats I actually wear: student body president, RISE editor-in-chief, writer, student, daughter, sister, friend, cat mom. I do sometimes get overwhelmed and feel myself being spread thin. I know that I cannot give my all in everything and that it’s okay to say no and to give up control, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t still struggle with it. This week, my writing suffered. Sure, I had some very successful SGA meetings, launched a digital newspaper, planned some school events, did my school work, applied to college, hung with friends, and still managed to sleep, but at what cost?
I submitted a short story last week that was quite possibly the worst thing I have ever written. I have never been more ashamed of anything I’ve turned in. My friends tried to encourage me, but I know that it wasn’t my best work, and I feel like I let, not only, myself but my writing community down, and that is my biggest disappointment.
This week, we were challenged to just be poets and writers and create poetry, but I have to admit, it was one of the hardest assignments for me. We were simply told to write poetry, and I had to force myself to produce content. Writing has never been this hard for me, and I can’t deal. I feel like I am losing apart of my identity.
And if I’m not a writer, who am I?
During quarantine, I didn’t write. I wrote a single poem during the entire 6-month break. I blamed it on lack of inspiration, but with what’s going on in the world, there’s no way it was that. I think I just didn’t want to admit to myself that writing had stopped being fun. The thing that I used to love most had become a chore. I stared at blank document after blank document, watching the bar blink at me. It’s all I could do.
But, here I am, stuck in this funk, wondering when it will end. When will the joy return? When will the words stop being something I loathe?
When will the writer in me start writing again?
This was pretty candid and personal, and I normally write things like this in my journal, but I felt the need to share in case any others seem to have lost their writer’s voices too.
“Beautiful and brutally honest, Mary Lambert’s poetry is a beacon to anyone who’s ever been knocked down–and picked themselves up again. In verse that deals with sexual assault, mental illness, and body acceptance, Ms. Lambert’s Shame Is an Ocean I Swim Across emerges as an important new voice in poetry, providing strength and resilience even in the darkest of times” (Goodreads.com).
Tips for reading:
Purchase the book
I recommend purchasing the physical book AND the audiobook. The audiobook is narrated by Lambert herself and accompanied by her classically-trained pianism, so the emotion and feeling exude from it. I also suggest purchasing a physical copy or the ebook, so you can follow along with the words as Lambert reads through it.
Tissues
Lambert is a self-proclaimed cryer and a crying advocate. She has often stated that her brand is crying, so it’s no surprise that her book is a real tear-jerker— it’s meant to be.
Sticky notes/bookmarks
Personally, I don’t like to mark in books, so I use sticky notes to flag important pages and jot down any thoughts. There are some pretty heavy themes in this book, so writing notes is highly suggested.
In addition to poetry, Lambert is a singer-songwriter. Grief Creature is her most recent album; it was released one year after her poetry collection. Originally, it was set to have the same title, as it was intended to accompany the book, but Lambert later decided otherwise. However, the album and the book portray many of the same themes; in fact, a few of the songs on her album are lyrical adaptations of her poems. Therefore, to get the full experience, I strongly suggest listening to the album.
Review:
I have probably read this book 20 times since I purchased it in the spring of 2019. With selections like, “I Wish Powerful Men Would Stop Being F*ing Terrible,” “Tips for Fat Girls,” “Rape Poem,” “The Art of Shame,” and “I Know Girls,” Lambert has crafted this work of art that is moving, evocative, and empathetic. It is a mirror, a diary, a poetic reflection of women who are queer, fat, neurodiverse, and are, not only, survivors but lovers, as well as the radical notion that you can be both.
It is a book about healing, but it is also a book about feeling. Lambert, very beautifully, tells women that it is okay to feel shame, to feel sad, to feel broken, to feel numb, to feel any and everything, but to feel something.
The book is comprised of 5 chapters, but the first one is my favorite.
O N E
my body is terrifying,
idaho is a giant sh*thole,
and other wholesome stories.
This chapter includes selections about body acceptance, sexual assault, trauma, and vulnerability. The collection begins with a piece entitled:
How I Learned to Love
When I was fifteen, I hated everything except for Weezer and maybe like two people. And cereal. One time a boy grabbed me in the music room and kissed my neck in front of everybody. I did not want to be kissed, but I thought I was supposed to want to be kissed. I did not know what to do. And so I laughed. I knew you were supposed to laugh after things like that The world had taught me to dress up my trauma in short skirts and secret bathroom crying, to protect the fragility of boys at all costs
When I was five, my father molested me you become a strange human that way You cannot whip yourself awake as a child I should have been born a bird
When I turned six, I stopped talking.
When I was twenty-five and my name was on the radio, I asked people to write poems and send them to me Maybe because I was starved of honest humanity Half of the poems were about slit wrists
I do not want to know any more about this brand of humanity. All I know of love is hunger.
When I met you, I planted my heart into the heavy earth. I was scared, But you smiled back. Thank God I was not born a bird.
*my favorite lines are bolded
I remember the first time, I heard this poem. I had never heard anything like it, and it was absurd, but also, so beautiful. I didn’t know what to think or how to feel, but I remember the feeling of awe at how simplistic, yet raw this poem was written. I could feel the vulnerability seep from Lambert’s words— it enticed me, and I wanted to read more and more. I flipped through the pages hungrily, eating all of the words being fed to me, like they were my last meal. Lambert has this way of making you appreciate the morbidity and the authenticity of life. I shuddered at her words because I knew what they meant. It was like she could see inside my soul, and oh, what power writers and literary artists have to bestow this gift.
My second selection from this chapter is entitled:
The Art of Shame
My mother found a rabid dog And wanted to hug it Wanted to give it all her glorious honeylove Wanted to bathe her children in a two-parent household But, the dog didn’t want kids The dog would scream it in the hallway at four A.M Reminding us as often as possible The sheer art of it How the monster could panic into my body Sometimes I still hear it in the chambers of my heart The way some glorious paintings stay with you
I am a museum I must be a museum
When I was seven, the dog told me I was going to be a slut No one came over to our house to play The dog made me write, “I will flush the bathroom toilet” seventy-five times I would’ve remembered to flush the toilet But, I started blacking out around then Forgetting basic things Started praying that Oprah would save us all I took snapshots with my memory camera Hoping there would be justice for this kind of psycho warfare The teachers at the daycare offered apology eyes and extra sequins For the art project The day after, the dog chased me around each room Because I forgot where my other shoe was
When you are a child And your mind is panicked like a fire alarm at all times You lose the ability to remember simple things I haven’t lost a personal item in months Do not laugh when I say, ‘This is a victory’ Shame is an ocean I swim across Sometimes, I call it drowning Sometimes, I call it Moses Sometimes, I say, “Good morning!” and sway to its murky durge Sometimes, I win and cut off its crest with a pink machete Sometimes, I want to f*ck it and Marry it and kill it all at the same time Sometimes, I spend my whole day apologizing on shame’s behalf Sometimes, I think it must be an art form to feel this bad Sometimes, I outrun all of its psycho history Other times, I repeat the language from my childmouth While beating my head against a wall But all the time, I am forgiven
*my favorite lines are bolded
This is one of those poems that Lambert also included on her album. On the album, it is entitled “Me, Museum“. I strongly recommend listening to the spoken word version to fully experience its glory. This poem is one of my absolute favorite pieces by Lambert, next to “Tips for Fat Girls” and “Margaritas”. It is so powerful and beautifully written. It amazes me how Lambert told this entire story in such a poetic form. Many of her works do this, and it is one of my favorite aspects of her writing. It almost feels like prose, but somehow, still feels exactly like poetry, and I think that’s a unique style of writing.
As much as I’d like to include all of my favorites from this collection, I simply cannot, but I do encourage you to purchase this book and experience the greatness yourself. I will, however, include some other examples of Lambert’s work below:
This was my very first literary review, so be gentle. How’d I do? Tell me your thoughts! Also, if you choose to read/listen to this selection, please let me know, I would love to hear your thoughts on it.
A lot of people keep planners or datebooks to keep track of their busy schedules and lives, but when I talk about my planner, I’m talking about my Happy Planner.
What’s a Happy Planner, you may ask? Well, it’s a planner like no other. It has a disc-bound system that allows you to remove and add in your own pages using a special hole puncher and discs specific to The Happy Planner.
The appeal of Happy Planners are that they are so customizable. It is essentially what you make it. Whether you’re simple and minimalistic or bright and colorful, there’s a Happy Planner for you. There’s different types of planners too. For instance, there’s Faith planners, Fitness planners, Recipe planners, Health and Wellness planners, Student/Teacher planners, etc. There are so many types available in all kinds of designs and layouts. As for layouts, The Happy Planner has a couple different sizes of planners: BIG, Classic, mini, skinny mini, and Classic skinny mini.
In these sizes, you can get different layouts, such as Vertical, Hourly, Block, Horizontal, Lined Vertical, etc.
So, now you’ve got the system figured out, you’ve chosen your size(s), and your layout(s). Here comes the fun part… STICKERS!! Another reason The Happy Planner is so special is because they are designed for decorative planning. Decorative planning is so much fun, and it allows you to be creative while being productive. Here are a few of my weekly planner spreads:
Other Planners
So, I know this blog has been pretty specific to The Happy Planner, but there are some other really great planner companies that offer other binding systems and customization. There’s Erin Condren, Plum Paper, Agenda 52, Recollections, and more! These can all be found on their own websites or at your local craft store (Michael’s, JoAnn’s, Hobby Lobby, etc.). The Happy Planner is a little more exclusive, and a limited quantity of their products can be found at Walmart. However, with that exclusivity, comes a more exclusive price. There are coupons and bargains pretty often, but being a decorative planner can get pretty pricey. I recommend joining Buy/Sell/Trade groups for planners on Facebook, as many of them destash their unwanted items or will resale items that they might not have needed.
Planner Community
Another perk of being a planner, is the community! The planner community is filled with people from all walks of life who just enjoy being creative and keeping track of their busy schedules. It’s such a positive and accepting environment, and most people don’t even know about it. And maybe some people find it weird that people can come together to bond over stickers, but weird or not, it’s all some people have, so who are we to judge what makes them happy and fulfilled?
My Planner Journey
My journey into the planner world started in 2016. My sister bought me Recollections planner for Christmas. I didn’t care too much for it in the beginning, but as I got older and my life got busier, I needed it. Looking back, I didn’t have nearly as much stuff to do now, but as a middle-schooler, just having a place to keep track of it all helped me tremendously.
When I switched to the more coveted Happy Planner, it honestly changed my life. I became obsessed with the stickers and writing things in my planner. It was so fun, and I was happier because I was getting things done and still taking care of myself. The Happy Planner’s motto is “Plan a life you love,” and I stand by that. Nothing great can happen without a plan and without action. Having a planner, allows me to plan, thus allowing me to take action, and do great things.
I hope this post inspired or motivated you in some way. Maybe you go out and get your own planner or maybe you just appreciate the people who do.
It’s been a while since I last blogged, so I figured I’d just tell you guys what I’ve been up to, as well as what the my blog platform will look like this year!
First, I am a senior now- crazyyy! I am also student body president, which still blows my mind to say out loud, but I’m honestly still the same Maleigh! I feel like coming into this year I almost felt like I had to “redefine myself,” but I quickly realized that is quite okay to just be me!
However, my blogging style will be getting a makeover. Instead of posting journalism or informational type blogs, I will be using this platform to talk more about me and my life. There won’t be quite as many series, and my posting will be more sporadic, but on the last Friday of each month, I will post some sort of literary review, so look forward to those! But as for every other week, you can just expect more about me. Last year when the pandemic hit, things were hard, and I had to sort of go off schedule and off plan, and it proved to be very difficult for me, so I want to challenge myself this year to just write- no rhyme or reason needed.
So, the last time you heard from me, I was reflecting and saying my goodbyes, but in these last few months, I’ve done quite a lot, so I’ll include some photos of what my life has looked like in this pandemic.
I turned 17 in May!
I was so super grateful!
I won a few awards for my writing (not sure why I am holding it like a baby)!
I spent a lot of time with my silly kitty, Manny!
I became pen pals with most of my MSA family to pass the quarantine time, and I must say letter writing is a lost art form!
I hung 😉 out in this super comfy hammock!
I went to “prom”!
That’s pretty much what I did during quarantine! I did a lot of cooking and baking too, but I didn’t have any photos that. How did you guys pass time while at home? Let me know in the comments!!
This photo was taken on my first day of school at MSA.
This photo was taken, unknown to me, on my last (physical) day of school at MSA.
If I could go back in time, I would. I would g0 back and tell that super ecstatic girl in the first picture to slow down. I would tell her that she’s good enough, and that she doesn’t have to prove anything to anybody. I would tell her to stand up for herself, and be brave. I would tell her not to blink because when she does, it’ll all be over.
To the girl in the 2nd photo, I am so proud of you. You survived what would be one of the most exciting and challenging times of your life. You did it! You’ve just made some very important decisions for yourself. You starting showing up as yourself- your best self. I know how guilty you feel about moving out and deciding to run for President. I know you don’t feel like you deserve any of things that you have. I know that you’re bummed you’ll never be Valedictorian, like your sister, or even Salutatorian. I know that you don’t feel good enough for any of it, but let me you: you’re MORE than enough. A title, a position, a GPA does NOT define you. You are going to do so many great things in this world, and you’re not told this enough, so I will tell you- I’m proud of you.
To my gal pals, the “almost senior literaries”,
I came across this meme a few months ago, and I thought it was so fitting.
You guys have been the best group of friends a girl could ever have. If I was having a good day, I could count on walking into the literary and you guys making so much better. And if I were having a bad one, I could count you to be there, but not pry. I could count you guys for everything: a hug, a laugh, a cry, and peer editing.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart for being the wonderful, strong girls you are and for letting me be your possum. I love you long time ♡
To Zoe & Addison,
You guys are fun. There was NEVER a dull moment in our suite. I’m not gonna lie, it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, we had our hiccups, but I wouldn’t trade those times for the world. I am going to miss somehow all meeting up at the bathroom at night, ghosts in the walls, playing card games during lockdown, and even Big Forest. You guys taught me so much and made my my junior year memorable, and I’ll never forget it. Love you guys♡
To the junior class,
I may not have memory with every one of you, or know you all that well, but I want you to know that you guys are family. If any one of you were to call me right now asking for help, I’d drop what I was doing to help you. That’s how much I care about you guys. I remember being at MSA every day, feeling so grateful that I could attend a school with so many talented individuals. Every one of you is going to do good things with your life, and I can’t wait to see it. I am so proud to be your classmate. And guess what?! WE’RE SENIORS NOW!! We made it through all the exciting and scary parts of junior together guys- we did it! I love you all, and I am ready to take on senior year with you. 🙂
To the incoming juniors, specifically literaries,
I’ve met most of you guys, and I can already tell y’all are gonna be one heck of a junior class. I am so sorry that you won’t get to experience New Student Day, like we did, but I PROMISE, we’ll make it up to you. Before you know it, you’ll all be here figuring out the ropes of MSA and finding yourself. I hope that MSA will be the place for you that it’s been for me. I hope that you will come to call it your home and don’t miss being home so much during the week. I hope that you won’t succumb to the pressure of trying to fit in. It’s a new school, and it’s nervewracking, I get it, but just be yourself! You got this. I can’t wait to see you all in the fall. Until then, write! It’ll only help you in the long run. I can’t wait to be your senior!
To MSA,
I miss you, but you taught me lots, and I have no regrets.
Goodbye.
Happy Teacher Appreciation week to all of our fabulous teachers at MSA. I wish I could be there to shower you with gifts and cards and real hugs, but until then, just know that I am thinking of you guys and all the good things you do in this world and that you are appreciated!
[I interrupt my prescheduled blog series to talk about my feelings once again.]
Guys,
I know I promised a post about chapbook, but when life hands you lemons… sometimes you fall apart.
I am a person who thrives on order and control. However, my life has been anything but the last few weeks. I haven’t been completing any of the tasks I’ve written in my planner, and I’ve seriously considered not planning anymore. The world has been turned upside down, so it’s hard to plan ahead in a time where nothing is certain.
Today, I moved out of my dorm, and it was bittersweet, but it was also eye opening. I HAD SO MUCH STUFF, like if you know, you know. It’s honestly crazy to me how much stuff I had. I am definitely going to be doing some SERIOUS purging. I have also learned that just because you like something does not mean you need 50 of them 🤦🏽♀️. This time is a time of reflection and learning for me.
I also think it’s God forcing me to let go and let him guide me, instead of me trying to do it all on my own. Growing up, my parents were always working and my siblings were all way older than me, so I was alone a lot, and I did, in some ways, have to take care of myself. It made me independent, and I think that’s my problem— I’m too independent, for my age at least. Sometimes I forget that I’m only 16, and that I don’t have to have it together 24/7. Sometimes I can just be a kid! My mom reminds me of that one all the time 😅. But it’s not my will, it’s God’s. I can’t control everything, and I shouldn’t feel like I have to.
The past 2 weeks have been especially trying for me. I forgot what it was and turned my blog in way late, and the two after that, I typed on the day they were supposed to post. Then, I missed my first assignment deadline. It’s been a sort of downward spiral for me, and I feel like a failure. I know that a couple late assignments aren’t such a big deal to some, but to me, it’s a huge deal. I’m not necessarily competitive, but I am very insecure about a lot of aspects in my life, so I overcompensate by trying to be “the best” and being on top of things all the time. However, I am learning about a thing called forgiveness. Forgiveness isn’t just for other people; it’s for myself too! And I forgive myself!! I’m not perfect, and it gets exhausting trying to be all the time. One of my goals for 2020, was to “Let go and let God”, so that’s what I’m trying to do. It’s not easy, but I am slowing giving up that control and those burdens I put on myself, so that I can be made new.
I know that this blog is titled, “Who Am I?”, but the truth is” I don’t know anymore, and maybe I never really did. However, I am learning and growing, so I may not know who I am right now, but I hope by the end of all this, I will.
I’ll be honest— it’s 8am, and I am frantically typing this blog post, as we make the long drive home, but instead of a post about chapbooks, I’m going to just talk about what’s been going on in my life recently.
Most of you all know that a tornado came through late Sunday night and destroyed most of our little town. Now, we are in the process of cleaning up and trying to rebuild, but also in the process of healing.
Just last week we were social distancing and trying to find toilet paper and hand sanitizer, but now, I can’t tell you how many people I’ve hugged and how many tears I’ve shed. It’s surreal to me because quarantine seems like a distant memory, but how are people supposed to isolate themselves when they’ve lost everything?
Our community, with no hesitation, has come together to heal and rebuild, and it’s inspiring, but also, quite concerning. I mean, on top of everything, people can’t afford to contract a deadly virus because they weren’t taking proper safety precautions, and my family and I are no exception. However, we’ve all been told to stay home for the last few months, but how can you stay home when you no longer have a home? It’s a dilemma that I’d never thought I’d have to question, and it’s almost if natural disaster and destruction have taken precedence over the pandemic.
Priorities and level-headedness have gone out the window— taken away by trauma and tragedy. So, where do we go from here?
Personally, I was fortunate enough to only have some minor roof damage to my house and no power for a week. However, we lost the roof and ceiling of our family business; consequently, causing us to lose most everything inside the building too. It’s been quite emotional for me, especially because I was raised there, took my first steps there, learned how to read and write there; it’s not just a place or a source of income for us. It’s a part of us. It’s home, and to see your home and childhood memories in ruins is devastating.
However, what’s more devastating is that the damage depicted in those photos are so minuscule in comparison to others’ damage. There are entire houses that were blown away, as if there was nothing there to begin with. It’s incredible, and all we can do is pray.
Usually, I’m not one to talk about things like this, especially on a public platform because I never want to relay the message that I am seeking attention and/or pity, but I think that in the time we’re in, things like this need to be talked about. It has really put things into perspective, especially during quarantine when most of us have been complaining about staying home and being bored. And, I’ll admit, at first I was resentful because this all felt like a big punishment, as if cancelling school and all events weren’t already bad enough, but my perspective has changed. If this had happened at a normal time, things would be tremendously harder. I mean, I would still be in school, worried about being at home, not being able to focus. Business would be bad because we would’ve had to shut down abruptly, but since it’s happened in the middle of all this, business was already pretty slow and we were only doing take-out. So, in a way, it’s kind of a blessing. It’s a fresh start and a new beginning.
I planned on posting about chapbooks for National Poetry Month this week, but since I am currently working on my second one for my Mixed Media final, I thought I’d just share that next week. Thank you all for being patient with me during this transition. <3
According to writersdigest.com, “A blackout poem is when a poet takes a marker (usually a black marker) to already established text— like in a newspaper— and starts redacting words until a poem is formed.”
Can Only Poets Create Blackout Poetry?
Before reading the article, I already knew what blackout poetry was, but when I read the definition, I was surprised by the part that said blackout poetry is created by poets. I mean, I always thought that anyone, poet or not, could create blackout poetry.
However, when I Googled the definition of a poet, the Oxford dictionary said that a poet is “a person who writes poems”. Well, blackout poetry is a form of writing poems, so the people who create them would be considered poets, which also means that anyone can be a poet.
So, therefore, you don’t have to be Maya Angelou or Edgar Alan Poe to be a poet or to write great poems. You just simply have to do it— but passion helps too.
What Makes Blackout Poetry Special?
The fact that basically anyone can create blackout poetry is one reason why it’s so special. I mean, it’s quite beautiful to be able to create written art without having to have any type of writing experience or devotion.
Blackout poetry is also special because it allows room for creativity. For instance, blackout poetry doesn’t just have to be black. There can be colors, shapes, swirls, drawings, etc.— just like in the photos below.
Blackout poetry is also special in that it allows for creative thinking. When writing blackout poetry, words are limited, so you have to be very meticulous in choosing them in a way that they flow and create something beautiful.
The Art of Blackout Poetry
Blackout poetry is essentially poetry that is found. Since all the words that are compiled to create this unique art form have already been written, by sorting through them and creating blackout poetry, you are “finding” your poem.
There are many ways to create blackout poetry: all black, patterns, 1 word or 5; the possibilities are endless— just as long as it makes you happy.
In honor of this blog, I decided to create some blackout poetry of my own. It’s nothing fancy, but I like it.
I hope this inspires you to create some blackout poetry of your own.
