Posts Tagged ‘Introvert’

701

Posted: September 4, 2016 in 2016, Haiku, Poetry
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Consumed by silence

Communication shutdown

My inner voice talked

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© Paul Nichol.  2016

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the door was open

joviality within

yet I walked on by

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© Paul Nichol.  2015

443

Posted: January 25, 2015 in 2015, Haiku, Poetry
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423

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Head above the waves.

Synchronized swimming, awkward.

Strong undercurrents.

Sinking below the surface,

in an ocean of faces.

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© Paul Nichol.  May 2014

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Expressionist Poet,

returning to the platform,

where he disembarked,

his train of reflective thought.

Resumes his onward journey.

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© Paul Nichol.  April 2014

 

I wrote these comments after reading posts that some of you wrote this year, here on WordPress, but I never send them.   I find them very interesting for they are like a diary of my first year as a blogger here on WordPress, mapping my difficult personal journey to this place.  

 

The companionship and support you have given me has been touching, and it is through your kindness that I have finally loosened my grip upon my anchor that held me, to walk slowly from the shadows, allowing the true me to seen by both you, but most importantly myself.

 

I wrote many more comments but I discarded them because through their words they revealed vulnerabilities and characteristics I was unwilling and unprepared to acknowledge at the time.

 

These unsent, unedited comments might of been the most important words I wrote over the past year.

 

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For me, the answer to your question is yes, it is the experiences of life that makes us who were are, we need to know the bite of pain, the kiss of love and the sickness of disappointment so that we can grow our innate selves. We should look into the mirror of time with pride and wear our scars with satisfaction as we walk upon the earth. I enjoyed reading this poem because I too am scarred and not perfect.

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I can only speak from experience; however, for me writing is a spiritual home. Not being able to write all the time is okay, and you should not worry but use your time in other meaningful ways. Then one day it will be like tripping over a stone in the street, a sudden need to put fingers to keyboard or pen to paper and off you will go, I promise. Life is like this, unpredictable and surprising. You can keep in touch if you like; it is always good to know someone else out there.

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I enjoyed reading this poem, because I relate to the idea that we see the world through the eyes of those who look upon us. Our face, our expressions, our eyes are mostly how others initially judge us.    We have to come to terms with our bodily characteristics and believe in ourselves to overcome such flawed prejudice.

It is not what we look like or the fashions we follow that defines us, but our endearing qualities that are only recognisable after discarding the superficial and looking beyond the skin and into the soul. That is where the true beauty or the ugliness of a person resides.

These are the thoughts that came to me after reading your poem.

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I enjoyed reading your poem; I thought it had strong imagery. The subject is not my usual reading choice but it caught my eye.  Thank you for sharing.

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I love coffee; some people have even called me a coffee addict. I loved this poem because the imagery took me straight into one of those high street coffee shops, which I hate. I can relate to your poem because I always find myself feeling sorry for the overworked coffee shop assistant, (if that is the politically correct term) , witnessing how hard they work always leaves me feeling guilty when asking them for a coffee, so therefore I now avoid these shops.

Coffee, I believe should be enjoyed in a relaxed, calming environment. There should be no guilt related to this pleasure or inference of sweatshop persecution related to it.

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It is not for me or anyone else to judge whether your poems are good or bad, but what I can say is that they made me reflect. I understood the emotions and the turmoil’s of youth you expressed. I was once a young man myself, and I have experienced much in living. The reason I did not write more your poem was that it made me think dangerously of my own adolescence, so yes I thought they were good because they made me remember. They were words of truth and words of the heart and it is never be wrong to acknowledge truth……

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This is the first of your poems I have read and what an adventure. Your poetic voice is so strong and clear and beacons the reader forward through the poem with both passion and conviction. I enjoyed the journey, thank you for sharing.

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Thank you for the comment, written in your cleaver poetic verse as always. I know I should communicate more with people. I have a habit of standing in the shadows, in the real and online worlds. It is a miracle that I ever joined this site let alone posted any poems, and then staying for a whole year.

I have only been visiting the site for a few weeks and already I am struggling, my fingers are drifting over the delete key. I have even forced myself to enter a couple of contests as a distraction. My children say I should retire to a desert island, as I love my solitude so much, silent solitude would be even better.   I suspect that in my next reincarnation I will be a monk.

I have been reading and enjoying your poems on the quiet, and I must say you are a very talented and prolific poet, and I know I should have commented on them earlier.

Do not think that I am a loon, it’s just I travel light through this life.

Your line, ‘And silently so silently, he came back to this place,’ is very apt because that is also how I live.

I know I should be more open and less quiet.

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The oceans in my mind are rarely calm, storms gather often but particularly at this the turning of the year. I am fighting the temptation to climb into my rowing boat and to row once again to my beloved deserted island where I know I will again find safety but no comfort. I am standing on the rocky shore gazing over the swirling dark waters to that place, to that time, to the events of my life that first took me there, to where I have never truly left, to where I believed I deserved to die.

I  now cast theses words upon the gathering winds of my existence, upon the page of my blog, knowing that tomorrow might be calmer, that the ropes tethering my rowboat may never be unleashed, and that its old keel might never cut the cold open ocean, and venture with me to that old place ever again.

However, life has taught me nothing is simple, so each day I will check the knot and cast a wary eye upon the horizon of my mind, in readiness ……………..

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16th June

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A continuation from yesterdays ‘A note to myself’

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I have to question my motives for wanting to expose my children to the darkness of some of my poetry.  What purpose would it serve; parenthood should be about portraying the joys of life, I should protected them even from my own vanity and not to do so would be selfish.   Therefore, I will not be showing them my poetry, although I am going to be less secretive when it comes to my writing in the future.

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