A Pour Choice of Words.

by justbekozlowski

This year has been a year in which I unknowingly took some blows to my self-confidence, completely lost it, had a rather long existential crisis among some worrying moments and then realised that maybe it was impossible to lose a thing that may not even exist (I’ll let you know when I’ve worked that one out). In short, it’s been a difficult year for writing.

I have cared too much about writing something brilliant that I have at times written nothing at all. I have poured endless drivel (see title) into letters to people I hold in high-regard as I cared so much about replying to the person the letter was for that I forgot to care about what I was actually writing. In person I found myself frozen and speechless upon meeting a lady this year which was a lovely throwback to being twelve years old.

I have felt foolish, I have learnt, and I have since spoken to the aforementioned lady who was an absolute delight.

This evening I walked two miles with many books strapped to my back and if I can do that then I can care more about words from now on. Here’s to 2017 and many more words (but not too many)!

To conclude here is a poem I wrote about a Christmas tree at the bus stop in the village where my mum lives.

There’s a Christmas tree at the bus stop,
How did the council know,
That what we want is a tree,
And not more signs that say ‘SLOW’?
There’s a Christmas tree at the bus stop,
That’s exactly what we need,
I’m glad we chipped in for deforestation,
Not the hungry mouths to feed,
There’s a Christmas tree at the bus stop,
But there’s still no ruddy bus,
If it had arrived when it was due,
Then I wouldn’t have made such a fuss.

NB: The Christmas tree is rather lovely and would make a good start to a fire should the bus never arrive.

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