Tag / life

by Carol J Forrester

Why Is Confessional Poetry Important? Well Firstly, Modern Poetry Is A Record Of The Female Experience In A Scale We’ve Not Seen Before

Trigger warning: this post mentions harassment and assault.

According to the Poetry Foundation, the term ‘Confessional Poetry’ came into use in 1959. “Confessional poets wrote in direct, colloquial speech rhythms and used images that reflected intense psychological experiences, often culled from childhood or battles with mental illness or breakdown. They tended to utilize sequences, emphasizing connections between poems. They grounded their work in actual events, referred to real persons, and refused any metaphorical transformation of intimate details into universal symbols.” [Confessional Poetry, National Poetry Foundation]. 

Take for instance the poet Isabella Dorta. With around one million followers on TikTok, she is a successful poet who openly calls herself a confessional poet. Her poetry is inspired by past relationships, and personal experiences. Her poetry creates an instant connection with audiences because often she is talking about shared experiences: love, heartbreak, betrayal, and jealousy, which are universal emotions. 

A lot of us have written love poems at some point or another.

Continue reading →
by Carol J Forrester

Red Lipped Garden #DVersepoets #Quadrille

Despite the hosing,
stems still cling to their cobwebs.
Strands draped between limbs,
threads quivering in a threat to untangle.
Roses grow thirsty again in a moment,
stripped out of their petals
heat caught up on their thorns.
A lessening, in want of more.

dverselogo

Roses

The Rosebush outside my kitchen window. 

by Carol J Forrester

Find A Room, Make Yourself At Home

All corridors run back to you,
though they say loss gets less
the longer you let it sit.
And you’ve been sitting here,
in this hollow you left for a while now
Just a slither of yourself
with no new words to say
that might explain this empty.
And barricades don’t keep
the door from banging open,
every time a storm
or gentle breeze blows in.
It only takes a name,
or a memory,
to raise your shade.
So I given up airing out this room
with all your secrets.
Leave another hole in the wall
the same shape as my fist,
pretend I haven’t
when the moments leaves.
Re-watch you walk in
sit down
pick up your drink.
Re-watch you pick up your drink.

dverselogo

by Carol J Forrester

Removals Man #DVersePoets #TuesdayPoetics

They hire him to take up gravestones

in old cemetery grounds.

Pay him by the hour,

to tease out lichen lost names,

note them,

in neat, thin rows of records

only his eyes will read,

and murmur each syllable

into the fresh split of dark soil

before the groundsman comes

with his sack of grass seed,

already whistling

to no one at all.

dverselogo

 

 

by Carol J Forrester

Conversation With Half An Onion #DVersePoets #Qudrille

The fridge stinks again,

the thing lolling at the back,

sweating, sickly sweet,

cling film wrapped and taunting

as if to say ‘this is just your desert

for peeling me down

till we both cried shameless,

and you held a knife like a question.’

 

dverselogo