If you follow me on social media, you’ve probably noticed I’ve been doing more poetry nights recently. (If you’re not following, scroll down to the bottom of the page to find the links or search L. K. Bridgford on Facebook/Instagram)
I’ve recently been asked if I put my poems up on my page or blog, and unfortunately the answer is no. Why is that? Because I hope one day to publish these somewhere, which won’t happen if they’re already available on the internet. I thought perhaps reflecting on my journey with poetry would be worth-while.
Poetry is actually one of the first types of writings I’ve ever done. I have poems I wrote growing up, and surprise-surprise, they are pretty depressing! I found a few recently when going through old notebooks, one was called Alone. I used to write about feeling isolated or excluded, and about hope for peace (which, if you read about what was happening in Israel in the 1990’s – would be easy to understand). Oh I also used to write in Hebrew (my first language) but now, I write mostly in English.
Poetry was also one of the first things I started writing when I returned to it. Poems come to me like clouds, arriving unexpectantly, without explanation, structure or clear direction. They come out onto the page naturally (in their draft form, of course). I then spend time editing and finding the exact words, metaphors or rhymes to suit the theme.
I came across an advertisement for a local poetry slam last year. I’ve never been to one before, or even knew these existed! A night of reading poems? How delightful! I went along to see what it was like, and to read out a poem I was exploding from the desire to share. The poem is called Cries. It reflects on the cries of a mother as she hears her baby’s cries.
Image: white woman standing in front of a small crowd, looking at a phone. She is wearing a cream top, pale blue jeans and brown glasses.
The adrenaline hit that I felt reading out my poem, amid my shaking hands and voice, was addictive. I returned again and again since that first time, reading out various poems, and listening, soaking in other poets’ words and wisdom. Being present at a poetry night feels like riding a water roller-coaster, exciting but gentle at the same time, caressing and convulsing all at once.
I continued to feel inspired to write more poems, about various life experiences, and to read these out to my fellow poets. Reading out my poems fills me with fuel to keep writing.
Recently I wrote a poem called Trapped which was directly inspired by my online fibular hemimelia (FH) community. I was so keen to share it with them, and so asked a friend to record me reading it out. It felt so incredibly special to connect with my fellow FH brothers that way. It is the shared understanding I always craved growing up – I am living it, and am so grateful.
I don’t know what poem I will write next, but I do know there is one brewing in the back of my mind. I just need time to let it arrive.
Until next time,
L. K. Bridgford
P. S. If you’re in Melbourne, you’re welcome to come along to a poetry night – just send me a message on social media and I’ll let you know about my next appearance.