World Poetry Day

I found out at around lunchtime that March 21st is World Poetry Day. This happens to be today, and poetry happens to be my thing. For those of you who don’t know me personally as a writer, words are my art. I paint with a mixture of thought-out sequence and thrown-together symbolism to create murals. My walls are covered in portraits, pictures, and illustrations of written work, belonging to myself and countless other artists.

This funny little thing called fate knocked on the door today, March 21st, because it just so happens I am in the process of publishing my second book. This book has been a project of mine for the past few months, and what better way to announce it than on World Poetry Day? I can’t share many details, (such as the release date, for example) but it is a book of poems I’ve collected and composed and shaped into an anthology, and am more than excited to share it with the world.

First though, I would like to share one of my all-time favorite poems, written by a modern day poet/artist, Rupi Kaur.

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With inspiration like this (because how badass and empowering is this poem?!) along with the help of teachers, mentors, friends, and (of course) my family, I’ve been able to read, digest, and spew my heart into this next book, and I’d like to share a piece of my own.

When I was little, I thought that travel meant far.
I thought that every trip was forever.
When I was little, 
I believed everything they told me.
And I didn’t consider the fact that the world was bigger than a field of corn.

When I was little, I wanted another episode, or a cookie, or a push on the swings.
But with each passing day,
passing month, passing year, I didn’t know what to want anymore.
I knew that every trip was just a day, to funny sounding cities and towns,
and I knew I wanted to go.

See, I’ve wanted to leave since the beginning, but never knew what to say.
They told me to grow where planted,
but the crops didn’t amuse me.
To escape was forbidden, and it felt like a sin against the childhood and extra cookies.
But the chain was broken, I was released from imprisonment, and I’ve gotten the only thing I ever truly wanted. 

Permission.

-M. Rheinheimer

Sharing our writing is one of the most difficult things to overcome in this field that I have dedicated my life to, but on World Poetry Day, I had to conquer my fears. My only hope for my poetry is for the reader to feel something. I think this is the entire goal of poetry, to embrace whatever emotion we hole up inside, whether that be love, hate, anger, or happiness. If the above words made you feel something, whether that be “I don’t get it” or “this touched my soul” or “poetry is for girls” or “this reminds me of my childhood” or “I’m craving guacamole right now and can’t focus on the poem, Maddie, hurry up and end this post already”, then my goal has been accomplished.

The more I read poetry, the more I fall in love with it, and it is an artwork that has changed my life.

Can’t wait for next year (and the release date),

Maddie

 

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