SCULPTURE – A POEM

Uncategorized, Writing

I stand in the hangar of the gallery,

white walls and lofty heights,

echoes, forms of boundless light,

beacons of the pained.

 

Ornate frames of oil, of paste,

a boreal veil caught in place

near autumn ochre trapped by paint,

an exhibition, captive cells.

 

Those mirrors gleam, gloss

a yolk, reflect no more

than air, then smoke;

 

I see myself a

sculpture carved by loss.

LAUGHING AT ROSES – A POEM

Writing

February, in bitter cold

we found ourselves

staring upon shelves

upon shelves;

glaring rows of roses,

roads of crimson cut with white.

 

Your hand tore away

from the cuff of mine,

you laughed, howled at

the inadequacy of thorns,

fingered the blade and

mocked its rust;

you saw no beauty in the blunt,

no mirror for your trust.

 

Pulling past pallets, stacked

and packed in plastic wrap,

suffocating them all,

we hid in the glass house,

bathed in the warmth;

cacti, ugly leather staring

from the eyes of needles, fine.

 

Stood in grainy earth, dry

desert, clumsy cucumber length,

you couldn’t resist

the itch to test the spines;

a drop of blood, blushing

on your finger, now in mine,

I want one

I could hear you think

I know it can survive.

SCISSION – A POEM

Writing

i’ve seen the way true grit splits,

carves sky and hacks Earth

on a butcher’s block

stained by sunrise, sundown.

 

up there, down here is absurd,

and the horizon mocks us all,

it serves nothing but a glow

i can re-create, lightbulb and shadow.

 

woodland surf, worlds away, whispers

to the rocks, they’ve seen the way i stand

to look down,

both of us ant-sized, nothing.

NOTES AFTER A NIGHTMARE – A POEM

Writing

coastline of pebbles, not sand,

scratched by wave after wave after

nightfall, 

before me, anyway

 

ankle deep in shallow sea,

ivory moon coloured blue 

the closer it swings,

a puppet and a pendulum

 

bird song of breaking froth,

echoed forth from jutting rock,

but no wings beat

with a sky so heavy.

A WOODEN SURRENDER – A POEM

Writing

I wondered what had toppled

that torso of sturdy oak,

crippled, hollow, beneath

a frosted cape of white,

recalled how high those

branches stretched, to sky, 

to cloud, far from from

the humble earth beneath;

I was younger than the settling snow,

and thought things went forever. 

Traipsing on, I conjured scenes

that showed it, mighty, felled

by a tempest’s wailing screams

of lightning, spark and smoke,

yet I knew the death was

thick and slow, a fog

that robs the night;

I wallowed in my memories,

the crooked bough that

snaked and weaved,

it seemed impossible to fold.

I thought of it rotting, steady,

pulling roots failing to hold,

in the saddest of my visions

as my skin crawled with the cold.

 

MY OTHER WRITING – HERE

MANAGING ANXIETY – SOME ADVICE

Blog

As some of you may have noticed, I haven’t been posting much in recent weeks, but there’s more to this brief hiatus than a simple explanation of idle laziness. It all started with the news that I would be starting a new job in the second week of January, the details of which I will spare you, but the significance of this opportunity is great; it’s something that I have wanted to achieve for a long, long time, and felt sure that I wasn’t going to let anxiety creep up and ruin anything before I’d even had time to enjoy it. I have, therefore, busied myself with strengthening my mental steel, and have discovered a few tips that may be of use to you. Without further ado, here they are:

FORM A ROUTINE, AND STICK BY IT!

Routines are something that I usually dread, but I’ve grown especially fond of them. The premise of laying out a particular set of activities may seem boring and useless at a superficial glance, but I think this has impacted my mental health in a rather extreme way, and I would seriously urge you to try it before mocking its worth.

A good routine is one that is personal to you, and this is where I messed up at first; trust me, it’s no use finding a template from the internet and deciding that you’ll do that, because you will have different preferences to the person that created it, and all that you’re doing is making it harder for you to stick to. I, for example, don’t feel like whole day routines benefit me in any way, as I do an eclectic mixture of things and to try and schedule them all would be absolute chaos, so I have a ‘Split Routine’, which includes the early morning and the late evening. For the sake of a demonstration, here is mine:

  • 5.30 AM – WAKE UP, SHOWER, GET DRESSED, GLASS OF WATER
  • 5.50 AM – MEDITATE
  • 6.20 AM – BREAKFAST AND PR READING
  • 7.20 AM – WRITE
  • 8.30 AM – HAVE A PRODUCTIVE DAY

Which then leads to my evening routine:

  • 8.00 PM – GLASS OF WATER, MEDITATE
  • 8.30 PM – BATH OR SHOWER
  • 9.00 PM – DIARY ENTRY AND LEISURE READING
  • 10.00 PM – SLEEP

Now, obviously, this is extremely tailored to me: I like early rises, you may not; I read books about PR & Marketing with breakfast, as that’s relevant to my work; I go to bed relatively early as I find that’s what suits me… The whole point is that you make something that ensures you do something that’s valuable, enjoyable, and calming, and hopefully, you will reap the same reward that I have. With my routine there to ground my day, I find myself not worrying about what I have to do or when I have to do it, and it also ensures that I’ve done something productive with my time. It isn’t a particularly strict schedule, as I feel that would make me more anxious rather than alleviate anything, but it anchors my mornings and evenings perfectly. 

GET A LITTLE HEADSPACE!

If I say meditation to you, you’ll probably think of sitting crossed legged on the floor, choking on the thick clouds of incense, and singing some strange chants that are meant to awaken some long forgotten part of you that may or may not even exist. I don’t blame you; having a father that is rather spiritually inclined, and having watched him do the above ritual since I was a small child, I had the same thoughts, but I’m glad I’ve been proven wrong.

Here is where I introduce you all to Headspace, an app that provides guided meditation (based on secular teachings and scientifically proven results), and I now wouldn’t dream of starting my day with anything else. Taking as little as ten minutes out of your day to stop and process your thoughts can dramatically change your relationship to anxiety, and enable you to retain some clarity of thought when you need it most. It has worked wonders, and teaches you an awful lot about how your mind works. If there’s anything from this list that I think you should try, it would have to be this.

DAILY DIARY!

The daily diary is really quite a fun thing to do, and allows you to express your emotions and thoughts about the past 24 hours, thus freeing up a little of your mind to relax. I write every evening in a little notebook, in pencil for some reason, and simply write a chronological entry of my day, including any further thoughts I may have, or an emotion I’ve felt. 

This makes me feel that I have gone some way to processing my thoughts and emotions, and allows a little reflection, thus becoming a preventative measure that stops these things building up and clouding your thoughts/actions. 

READ/WATCH/LEARN!

I know some people don’t enjoy reading, but I suppose this works with anything that you can lose yourself in (film, music, art, etc). Just set a little time out of your day to read or watch something that you can immerse yourself in; this process can be so relieving, and often you’ll find yourself relating to a character, or an experience, and realising that there are other people out there that think in similar ways. That is always comforting.

On another note, watching a TedTalk (or similar thing) or reading an essay on something you find interesting is another thing that I’d recommend. Learning new things/expanding what you know makes you feel like you’ve achieved something with your day, and I don’t know why, or if it will work for anyone else, but it seems to make me less anxious if I have these things as reliable and interesting conversation pieces. If you’re always learning, you’re always going to be in the possession of some interesting anecdotes or facts. 

TRY AND EXPLORE A HOBBY AT LEAST ONCE A WEEK!

This one is simple, but can be easily ignored if you’re stuck in a busy schedule. If you love photography, go out and take some photos. If you like writing, sit down and write. If you like knitting jumpers, cooking excited food, or flying around a racecourse at 200mph, then make sure you bloody well do it. It’s so easy to be caught up in worry or anxious thoughts and forget to please yourself, so try get some time to yourself!

REGULAR EXERCISE, CLEAN DIET

I will hold my hands up right now and say that of late, this hasn’t been me, but that doesn’t change the fact that both of these things are absolutely vital to a stable mental health. Regular exercise not only makes you feel better and more confident in yourself, but it releases endorphins to chemically buzz you up. Eating well is much the same – if you know you’re looking and feeling your best, it perks you up on an every day basis. Writing this, I’ve just woken up on the morning after a poker night with my friends, and really wish I’d taken this point more seriously.

COUNT TO FIVE AND DO IT

This may not be relevant, as it probably depends on how severe your anxiety is and how you approach different situations, but this is becoming a useful thought to have in moments where you feel anxiety coming on. Approaching something that I know I want to do, but feel anxious about, I’ve gotten quite good at powering on through it and having a good time: three deep breaths, count to five, and fucking do it. Whatever it is. Because you know you can.

—————————————————————————————————————————————

I really hope that there’s something here that you might find useful, and if you feel you’ve got something worth sharing please comment it below! I have started to write some poetry again, so that will be uploaded soon. 

Merry Christmas!

Fred xo

CATCH ME – A POEM

Uncategorized, Writing

Catch me on a good day 

And I’ll smile ivory

With polished bone,

Shake your hand or

Embrace until I find

Safety in a collarbone,

Reality in tired eyes;

I’d be happy, that’s for sure.

 

Otherwise, I won’t catch you,

I’ll be busy shouting static

Or imagining this tragic

Day would morph into some good;

I’ll worry over flea sized, pea shaped

Small fries, anxious that my disguise

Of normality will slip, that I’ll have 

To look a little mad, mental, or sick;

In that moment where I’m most alone,

I’ll drown myself in treacle tone,

Crave the crater of your collarbone and

The challis of your hips.

 

 

 

NEARING THE END, A REFLECTION ON 2017

Blog, Uncategorized

2017 has been the most tumultuous year of my existence, and has marched forward with such a pace that I’ve had to force myself to reflect upon these rushing days, and how they have fluctuated so wildly between the macabre and the wonderful.

The year began with a slither of hope; having left university due to various circumstances, I was ready to embrace January for its metaphorical clean slate, and set about trying to organise my life. After a rather chance conversation with my best friend, I suddenly found myself booking all of September off to travel around Europe, which, if I’m being honest, flooded my veins with an unshakeable feeling of dread and fear. I was concerned that I would be unable to get through it without the shadow of my anxiety swallowing me whole, and the image of me experiencing that panicky, illogical mindset somewhere in the middle of Prague wasn’t going a long way in regards to calming me down.

With that in the pipeline, I thought it best to revert from my usual reaction to such worries, and fought against the urge to shut myself up in my room, eat unhealthily, and refrain from human interaction as much as possible. I went out for daily walks with my camera, met up with friends as often as I could, and went on a beautiful trip to Pisa with my girlfriend. The latter was actually an event more significant than I originally thought; I had planned and actually enjoyed a trip abroad without any major incident, and besides from one little episode prior to the flight over there, it showed me that my month long trip would be nothing to worry about, and I let positivity control my brain for once. Upon our return, I worked part-time, and found that to be great too – I was interacting with strangers all day, and enjoying it, and I suddenly found myself free from my burdens.

However, I was pulled back down to reality rather quickly when we realised my grandmother was dying. I know a lot of my friends aren’t that close with their grandparents, yet Grandma was, ultimately, my best friend. Throughout my childhood, I had spent 5-6 days a week at her house, talking extensively about pretty much anything we could, and forming my life-long love affairs with cooking, literature, music, and cinema. She was an outrageously funny, incredibly fashionable, independent lady with a seemingly bottomless wealth of knowledge, and I am blessed to have even known her let alone be related, but that made it all much harder at the end. Watching such an energetic individual slip into their illness, unaware of anything around them, and ultimately become dreadfully frustrated with a life they can no longer enjoy, was possibly the most traumatising thing I have ever witnessed. I think a small portion of myself died with her that day.

The aftermath of the funeral was not great. By my own admission, I am pretty terrible at facing such things, yet I think I was more concerned with my mother to think too much about anything else; in a way, I count myself lucky that I was with Grandma in her final weeks, right up to the very end, as it enabled me to mourn in a gradual wave, rather than experience what others in the family had to. I just felt that everything was becoming a little bit too much, and that I had to get away.

Luckily, Europe was closing in. Before I knew it, Jacob and I were boarding our train for Paris and the journey had begun. I don’t know why, and perhaps I never will, but I did not experience one iota of anxiety throughout the entire trip (which you can see the photos from on my travel page – here). I think it was the relief of being somewhere so excitingly new that left me no time to dwell on anything from home, other than my girlfriend, but she was beginning her own adventure at university. It was, without a doubt, the most enjoyable month of my life, and I think I’ll be able to dwell on the inspiration for my writing for many years to come. More importantly, by the end of it, I was so glad to see Derbyshire, and be back in familiar territory that no longer felt like it was suffocating me. 

On the day I arrived home, however, my dog passed away. It was weird to leave a trip and return from it surrounded by elements of death, but Truffle was extremely old and frail and had given us so much love throughout the years that it felt strangely right she had gone; dare I say it, I was weirdly relieved. The next few weeks were spent writing and roaming around, visiting my girlfriend in York and reading good books on slow trains, and then I had one fateful weekend that has twisted the road of my future once more.

After attending an interview for what I thought was a two-week volunteering position, I accidentally left the room with an internship and, looking forward, the prospect of a full time job in something that enables me to work with the terminally ill, conduct creative writing groups, and work within PR and marketing. This should all start in January, and because of all that has happened this year, I don’t think my anxiety is going to fuck this one up. I am much stronger, happier, and healthier than I was this time last year, and I can’t thank the people around me enough. 

Let me know in the comments how your year has been – what were the ups and downs, what affect do you think it has had on you?

Anyway, here’s to another metaphorical clean slate, may it forever be chalked with positivity. 

Fred x

 

LAUGHING AT ROSES – A POEM

Uncategorized, Writing

February, in bitter cold

we found ourselves

staring upon shelves

upon shelves;

glaring rows of roses,

roads of crimson cut with white.

 

Your hand tore away

from the cuff of mine,

you laughed, howled at

the inadequacy of thorns,

fingered the blade and

mocked its rust;

you saw no beauty in the blunt,

no mirror for your trust.

 

Pulling past pallets, stacked

and packed in plastic wrap,

suffocating them all,

we hid in the glass house,

bathed in the warmth;

cacti, ugly leather staring

from the eyes of needles, fine.

 

Stood in grainy earth, dry

desert, clumsy cucumber length,

you couldn’t resist

the itch to test the spines;

a drop of blood, blushing

on your finger, now in mine,

I want one

I could hear you think

I know it can survive.

DIVORCE – A POEM

Writing

The bed grows cold, a slab

Of stone so crudely cut,

Torn out from the gritstone

Rough, pulled apart from whole.

 

I withdraw, collapse, tuck

Shivering knee to chin,

Curl foetal, harness limb to limb,

They fracture, split my hold.

 

My arm stretches

through thick night, clasps

nothing but the albite light

Thrown down from foreign skies.

 

I weep for familiarity, fight

the rip of mourning tides, seek

to rise upon my feet,

And tread this great divide.

 

MY OTHER WRITING