anxiety 1 (english poetry)

I could probably write as many poems of anxiety as there are poems of anxiety left to be written, or, better yet, I could likely claim that every poem I have is, at least partially, a poem of anxiety. I’ve also resigned to my dread of giving titles to compositions; unless they come naturally to me while conceiving a poem (or, in other words, before I’ve written said poem) I never feel as if my titles are adequate in approximation. So, I suppose I’ll be a titular minimalist, see if it suits me, perhaps it might.

If you, too, suffer from this ailment (which in this modern world of ours, seems inextricably woven into our fabric of being), I can’t provide a pyre or tell you that you’re not alone; you are not alone, but our caltrops of loneliness are not ones we can dodge merely equipped with the knowledge of companionship, but one we can bear the pains of by cultivating a veritable motion of hearing, of communicating individually, within and without. We are not alone in others, we are alone within ourselves; the only pyre, the only voice which is worthwhile in exiting that artificial solitude, is your own within yourself, and if it stands sincere and kind, it shall too reverberate in others, which shall return the same measure of sincerity and kindness; if not, they are undeserving of your pain, and you still hold yourself firm. This is, of course, my experience.

My communications are always open if (hopefully exempt of vaticination) those pestiferous ghosts of anxiety come to plague you. I will help as I best I can.

be evergreen,
joão-maria.

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Johnny

Hoje sou tudo no nada que sou, amanhã serei outro.

40 thoughts on “anxiety 1 (english poetry)”

  1. Yes, anxiety it seems has been woven into the fabric of our lives. Finding balance and tranquility in all the turmoil is key. Inner peace and being able to reach for it with just a breath is comfortingly to say the least. It takes practice, but worth your time. Thanks for sharing 😊

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    1. Thank you so much. You know, Dina, I always feel like I leave so much unsaid, too much, at times; sometimes, we must resign to the sensation that our silence is as much our voice as the words we choose to evoke.
      To us, adepts of writing, words burn through us as flame to paper, but silence, at times, can be the true incineration.
      I love that you’ve read it, and you’ve found something in it compelling enough to comment on. Makes me feel safe in who we are.

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      1. That’s very interesting you say that, because I also find negative space to be a powerful aspect of poetry and prose. As a writer and reader of both, I appreciate it when a piece of writing trusts the reader enough to fill in the silence with their own reaction to the piece. I try when I write to allow myself some spaces of silence, because I know these are where a true relationship between the reader and me will develop.

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    1. Thank you so much, Melanie!
      Sharing ourselves is the one thing capable of giving us emboss in a realm of plains.
      I hope the best for you and your quarrel with anxiety; let words be a balm to you, if nothing else, as they cannot betray you.

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    1. Oh, Jade!
      Anxiety is the singular cold fountain of all my regrets, and, furthermore, my inexorable share wherein.
      The hardest part, perhaps, is the intimate and indivisible nature of our anxieties; I’d erase them, had I a chance, but how much of I would I erase with them?
      I suppose that is the mysterious Art of Disappearance.
      Always a beautiful pleasure to hear your thoughts.

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    1. Ellie, my dear, I can promise you that inasmuch as my words occlude yours, I covet yours for what they, in me, bring alight.
      You are the acanthus leave, the redbreast robin of my WordPress experience; I wouldn’t have bevel nor melody without you here, it would feel unnatural.
      My love for you, for your Art, is endless.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Oh, Johnny your gentle thoughts always touch my heart so deeply and settle then in peaceful ways that I shall keep close as a treasured feather found or the gift of a flower pressed between the pages of a book of beloved poetry. Do take good care 🌷

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    1. Breathing truly is the soother to existence, as it provides a small window of relief. I don’t think one can ever be truly cognizant of self-worth, but, at least, one may try to dance alongside it.
      I do, at least.
      Thank you so much for reading.

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    1. It is genuinely rare for me to leave someone speechless, let alone someone as fond of words as I.
      Perhaps it is a linguistic breach; this specific composition was written directly in English, but I do not master the language absolutely, thus, I often find it hard to cogitate in it, and my poetry might suffer from that refraction of thought.
      I’m expressively exulted that you’ve found my writing good, it truly warms me beyond what I’m able to convey. Funny, I suppose you’ve made me as speechless as yourself.
      Thank you, so much. Truly.

      Liked by 1 person

    1. I’m grateful for your gentile words, Chad. Distractions indeed, all seems be noise and that selfsome fuss demands every inch of our mental space…
      You seem to have found spiritual peace in it all, and that is a treasure indeed.
      I’m glad you felt compelled to comment, again, thank you dearly.

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  2. Johnny, you might not master english, but you surely are on the “next level”. I need a dictionary to read your texts, but that is fine because you give me a chance to learn something new of a foreing language and how it is used. Besides that, in my oppinnion when reading one doesn’t always have to understand the meaning of the words to enjoy the text. Words are so much more than just the meaning they contain. They are sounds, notes and rhythms. They can be digested as they are. Like music, without interpretating the message voven to the lyrics. Sometimes it is the most enjoyable way actually, with texts or music alike. For me it gives the chance to release my imagination to take a journey without trekking the sometimes very narrow path signposted by lyrical meanings and messages.

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    1. There truly is a qualia-like element to Art; sometimes, it is a sensory neurolinguistic stimuli brought to surface, a reflection not so much of how we express our experiences to others, but how we tend to express them to ourselves, almost somatic, free of words and phrases, meanings, sometimes even free of rhythms or visual representations.
      Sometimes it is so inner, so limpid, unbridled, that we feel it just by feeling it, and that, perhaps, is the oddest of all.
      I’m not fond of the theories of meaning or purpose, but I would like to make more sense one day. For now, I make as much sense as I can.

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      1. Yes, I agree with you as much as I can understand, since it takes a while and couple of read troughs to comprehend your message.
        I see my own texts as a ramblings of a simpleton. I am not a poet nor a lyricist and not educated in languages or literature. Just a regular guy who wants to get something out.
        That said, I still enjoy writing them and trying to express what goes on inside my mind. It is not always easy, even though the texts are quite lightweight. The struggle to compose them is a part of the pleasure, while it is not always enjoyable and it is of course a learning process. Learning about the language you use and most of all learning about yourself.

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      2. I don’t find it necessary for us to make successive revolutions about the precise forms of literature. Both literary criticism and academia are already overly-saturated as it is.
        You do not need an education in language or literature in order to express yourself; I’m certainly not trained in the arts of writing, nor am I educated in English. The little I know, I wanted to know, and with the tools we have today, motivation is the only necessary element to growth.
        But, from my experience, anything worth writing is, at least, very difficult to write. Struggling to compose is not so much a signal of lack of understanding or experience, but more a specific preoccupation with the expressive force being applied.
        What is worth transmitting is often acute, often excruciatingly specific, and language, no matter what language, always fails to capture that in some measure.
        I believe Godfrey Reggio said “from my point of view, our language is in a state of vast humiliation. It no longer describes the world in which we live.”

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    1. It does help generate the creative momentum, I find, but I don’t know if you feel emotions strongly. I often find anxiety eclipses most of what I feel, coating those emotions with a sheet of metal: they become reflective, hardened, persistent.

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  3. Your word choice and vocabulary are amazing. Onanistic- Onan, a character in the Old Testament who was cursed by God for spilling his seed. Wasting his resources doing something that would not result in a creative effort. Or at least that’s how God daw it.

    Anxiety for me was/is like that. Wasted energy. But until you learn tools to stamp your Automatic Negative Thoughts (ANTs) pulling the emotions out of the issues it is nothing but emotion and response.

    A death spiral of thoughts and feelings that lead to distraction. Or some great poems. You have a gift. Thank you for sharing.

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  4. I remember anxiety. Thank God that I’ve been delivered from it. Oh, it tries to creep in on occasion. After 30+ years of living with it, it likes to try and stop by for a visit without success.

    Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. (1 Peter 5:7 NIV)

    I totally feel you regarding titling poetry. When I first started writing I performed a lot of spoken word and would usually not title the work. Now, I will usually write the piece and allow the title to come afterward or I incorporate it into the piece.

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  5. I hate coming up with titles for things. I often begin rewriting the piece in the title bar. A handful of words is never enough to describe the entirety, unless, as you said, the title occurs to me before the writing. ‘Glad to know it’s not just me.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Most authors with our issue use the first verse as the title, which I like from a distance, but am reluctant to use, since I tend to arduously struggle with first and last verses; I never like them enough, which, curiously, falls into the same issue as post-titling.

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