Poetry and Fairy Tales

In preparation for my master’s course I’m researching two possible poetry collection ideas, and this one I’ve already started. While doing my BA Hons course I researched fairy tales in my spare time, and wrote a few fairy tale poems with unusual twists (these I’ve already posted on the blog). I want to continue with this idea, but also explore less known fairy tales, folk tales, fables and legends from different cultures. I might even include some gaming lore from games like Final Fantasy XIV.

One of my prized possessions is a copy of The Poets’ Grimm: 20th Century Poems from Grimm Fairy Tales, so I’ll be re-reading this, as well as a few other fairy tale inspired poetry books that I have (such as Disenchantments: Anthology of Modern Fairy Tale Poetry). I plan to post my progress and thoughts as I go, to keep a record for my upcoming course.

poem ideas

20:73

Writing used to be easier,

time more eager to be found,

a pen more easy to flow across

paper. Restrictions of

interactions, limited people

to care for, a constant,

lonely ache desperate to

ignore, with creations of

worlds and words to delve into.

I found you, and finally

experienced love besides

family love. You completed

me, took away that empty

ache. Life with you

began, our life, full of

independence and struggle.

Exhausted days to build

our home, existence

together. Writing was harder,

almost forgotten. Now

I am here, in lockdown,

no exhaustion except one

self-inflicted. Time is

available, but writing is

still hard. Dreaming of

the life we are still

building, harder to create

the life of characters.

Have you killed my

motivation with love and

acceptance? Or have I

just changed too much,

and struggle to recognise

my worlds anymore.

Poem ideas

20:72

Once again you paint

a beautiful vision, one

free of struggle, with

happiness in work, plentiful

in wealth, rich in materials

and perfect in decoration.

Our worries will be gone,

everything will be easy,

and, best of all, we

will still be together.

Those hopes are dashed

be a miscalculation,

work and wealth not

so easy to change.

Life is struggle, it

doesn’t end, and silly

fantasies will only

disappoint, if you believe

too hard. We still

have each other, truly

rich for that. Holidays

and freedom would be

empty without you, so why

dream so hard for change?

Struggle on. Perhaps life

will get easier. Perhaps

it will get harder. But stay

with me and I will always

be content. I will continue

to struggle on, rather

than lay down in the

mud and drown into

despair.

poem ideas

20:71

A world forced into

isolation is finally opened

to them again. Cherry

blossoms falling like snow,

decorating the empty

landscape. Darkness no longer

grips their existence,

forcing them out of the

sun in order to live.

Witness the world as

a still-shot, nothing

moving, no creature alive

to disturb. The world

has finally returned to

them, but they

are still all alone,

with rays now burning,

instead of the sheltered

darkness in working years.

Poem ideas

20:68

Bouquet of flowers,

bought within the time

before, dead.

Still they’re displayed

in the window,

denial of death,

denial of endings,

denial that you

lack the freedom to

refresh and replace them.

20:69

Decoration of chalk

marks you all for

ruin. Respect never present,

never considered, never

demanded. Tears of rage

at the thoughtless colours

splattering your world,

transforming peace into

chaos. A house barricaded

with smiling pictures,

facial expression forever

fixed as your soul

screams in anguish

and despair.

20:70

Forgetting the comfort

of a daily routine,

and the person who

once had it. Stable life,

stable feelings have

collapsed and dissolved,

leaving a helpless heap

to feel everything, and

nothing. Trapping your

body, but emotions

bursting free. How

much longer can you

live like this? Can

you ever go back?

Poetry ideas

20:66

Faded and tired walls,

scrubbed with years

to thinness. No protective

layers to defend

pained eyes from

seeing, or experiencing,

the scars life brought

you. Crack under gazes

and bury yourself in

dirt. Will a fresh

layer of paint cure all,

as you hide yourself…

from yourself.

20:67

Corona rays pierce through

the future of tomorrow,

transforming warmth to

scolding, comfort to fear.

Duck into shadows and

buildings, hoping ignorance

of light will save the

breath you draw from

suffering, and pain.

Poetry ideas

20:64

Foreign breath of fresh

air, its taste forgotten

after stale and safe

confinement. Do you

spy visible disease above

your head, or ignore it

to gulp down more

sweet, sweet freedom?

20:65

Watch through windows

painted with rainbows

as the people beyond

admire their bare skin.

Content smiles stroke arms

that flake and disintegrate,

back into the earth

where it all began.

Clap your hands

beyond the glass,

multi-coloured thoughts

viewing a world of ash.

Poetry and Music

In preparation for my master’s course I’m researching two possible poetry collection ideas, and the more unusual one is poetry with music. Not lyrics, or poems about music, but a poem performed live with a musical instrument. I remember going to an event that had storytelling with music years ago, and I loved it. Music helps set the atmosphere for words so well, and I’d love to write a collection based on this principle.

I played guitar at school, and still have one, but would have to re-learn a lot to play decently. At the moment I’m just trying to find examples of poetry with music to start with. If anyone has any links, please send them my way.

So far, a perfect example is this live performance:

Corona World

20:63

Scattered presences

amongst allotted

parking spaces. Tense

faces as eyes

measure distance and

safe areas. Empty

aisles reveal human

nature as full

cupboards mutate into

cockroaches, scurrying

and alive while old

bones litter our

legacy. Hard-earned

homes become prisons,

trapping the present to

save the future.

Inside I cough and

fear approaching mortality,

hands spread out

to the blurred world.

My life and reason

watches, eyes lost,

as my vision darkens

the world and its wonder.

Panic of the unknown,

of reality, grips and

latches onto the last

moments of life.

Reaching for one last,

bone-crushing, love-

defining hug.

Am I selfish enough

to ask it?

Are you desperate enough

to accept it?

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