The Simplest Yet Impossible Challenge

I know I’ll sound incredibly stupid when I tell you what my personal writing challenge was. I say that because it’s one of those silly, basic things that no writer ever (I assume) struggles with. But I am not a writer, sadly, although I spent years just trying to cope with words and write something from my heart. Poetry was, however, all I made out of it. And I am thankful for that, even though the most of my poems are not good, or not even average – and that’s​ okay, as long as they have a personal meaning to me.

This little thing I challenged my self with, on the other hand, included prose only. I am very embarrassed to admit this, but I failed in every single attempt I have ever had in my life to write a story. the closest I’ve ever been to achieving this was 80 pages, and that was five years ago. Not to mention that the story was avarage, with many cliches and plot holes, and no plans whatsoever. My other attempts were eather too weird and silly (I am too old to call any piece of literature weird – yet still!) or interrupted by other, new, working projects which were later cut by the new ones and the magic circle of that evil spell goes on and on.

So a year ago, I finally decided to break that horrible curse of mine and get to some serious writing. And I gave myself a challenge:

Write a book in a year. No giving up. No other writing projects. No distractions. Just one simple book.

And to be quite honest, that was another simplest yet impossible challenge for me. I didn’t write a book, sadly. I did stick to my rule of not starting another projects while having one unfinished, though. I am working on one specific little thing ever since. And that little thing has only 50k words so far, but it’s still a progress compared to all those failures I had before. This one almost happened to be one of them, as it happened to me so many times that I had an urge to simply start a new thing. But I thought to myself ‘ugh, that challenge!‘ and I tried including those new ideas for a new story into the existing one. Now I have quite of a mess there, but it’s still something.

Do I expect anything from this? No, not really. The only thing I’m hoping to succeed in doing is finishing this novel I’m currently writing. It might take me another year, but it doesn’t matter. All I truly wanted from this was to be able to write prose. And I’m taking incredibly small steps but I’m on my way. 

Yay!  (Trying to be as optimistic as I can! XD)



If you have your own challenge or simply a goal, let me know what it is. Even if it’s a silly thing like this one of mine.

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What you need to know about Wattpad poetry


I’ve been on Wattpad for three years now, both as a reader and a writer, and I must admit that I lost pretty much all of my passion for the whole Wattpad-sharing-writing idea.
If you do not know what Wattpad is, it is basically one of the most popular apps for sharing stories and new ideas. And they have several genres, including poetry.

It’s quite impossible to ignore the fact that the majority of wattpad authors try using trivial writing style and cliche topics just to get more views and followers. And as they do, their books get on hot lists very easily. Now, I’m not saying it’s wrong – all of us need some kind of a platform for our writing career – but I do think writers must stay true to their original style, if they have one.

Poets, as well, mostly write about popular topics. Which are sadly, mental illnesses. And that wouldn’t be any bad if those poets knew about their topic or informed themselves before publishing. But the thing is, their poems are, mostly, very poorly written and are sending a completely wrong messages. Not to mention that majority of those poets are teenage girls only interested in number of followers. I’ve read tons of poems about depression, which are not only triggering but are even promoting the idea of having a mental illness without a reason to fight it, with no need of getting better and seeking for help. Now that’s quite wrong, is it?

Not to those poets of Wattpad. They think, with poetry promoting depression and self harm there is an actual way for people out there who are going through the same thing to somehow get better. But that doesn’t happen that easily. And telling someone to embrace their depression is not helpful whatsoever. The worst thing is, those kids-poets don’t even get you seriously when you try to point it out for them. And neither do their supporters.

And that’s the main reason I stopped using Wattpad. I still have my poetry published though and read stories sometimes, but not as much as I did before. (If you have your own account and would like some feedback on your work, you can feel free to ask me anytime. Just message me your username or a story.)

Apart from that, there are some extraordinary poets on Wattpad who still believe in the quality of poetry on the site. Their work is rarely on top lists of poetry, however it’s always possible to search for different wattpad clubs or just join Poetry’s Pub made by two most experienced poets on Wattpad. 

I don’t think there’s anything else you need to know about Wattpad poetry. If you’ve ever been on the site yourself, feel free to share your experience and tell me your thoughts.

Cloudburst

The grass felt harmful
Through my fingers
While I ran, ran,
To meet the sky –
My bones weren’t raging
This time,
Still silent from
The petrichor,
Trapped in Autumn’s hue
For no solitude craving,
no longer hollow.
And I let my mind
Fall asleep
While restless I ran
Leaving scars on my hands
With warnings of Nature herself.
But I,
the lullabies I followed
And their melliflous tones
From bones that led me;
But those soft whispers were hiding
Sky’s sonorous bells
That raged, raged,
Onto just a naive child;
And I think I’d not be mistaken
If I say
That I didn’t see
When cloudburst came
And drowned my bones,
Hands chained with mud,
And washed my mind
Far away.

‘Hope’ Is Not The Thing With Feathers

The thing with feathers
Hope is certainly not.
And where it leaves a trace
Far is away.
It only sings to winds,
Whose language I forgot,
To whose unknown tone of grace
Now I’ve nothing to say.

Along oceans it travels —
It — what in hope hides —
And to shore it brings
Sounds of broken past.
I left all my fragments
To be carried by the tides
From Hope’s fragile strings
That do not last.

The thing with feathers
Is humming to a thunder,
And what’s left of Hope
I can not recall.
Winds whisper way above me,
Oceans somewhere under,
But there is only silence
I find in my soul.

Why Is Sky Blue

Sky is blue,
Because someone needs to be —
— Among many broken faces
Hidden with grey.
Blue meets the Sun,
For those who can not see
That pouring human traces
Washed our souls away.

Sun is broken brush,
And in different shade is gold,
— By poetry of pain —
Its pieces are defined.
Soaked are the stars,
From black tears of those old
— To whom life is a stain —
— Of painters, colorblind.

Sky is a reflection
And it’s everything but blue;
It’s black and white street
And captured motions —
For the lost artists,
And our broken eyes, too,
— That do not leave our feet —
Scared of
                 Emotions.


The River

It whispers me; the river,
It whispers as it tries to
Become One with this world.
I’ve been embracing silence
For too long to understand
Why one would want it
As a melody of sleep.
It’s awoken, the river,
And it speaks to the mountain.
It touches with its wings
The snow and the sky.
Rocks beneath it move, I see,
They’ve been embracing silence
For too long to understand
Why their river can grow
Higher than the sky.
I’ve been begging sun
To not rise, just yet
Just a little longer to sleep
And later to forget
That snow needs to melt,
That Icarus has flown,
And touched the shore of stars.
But the sun has been
Embracing silence for
Too long to understand
The need of those who
Can not take it anymore.
The river whispers,
With its wings, its strings,
Its shelter for static beings
Of another world.
It smiles and it cries,
Reaching outer space,
Deeper than the ocean,
With pearls made of stars.
Rocks and the mountain,
Sun and I, beneath, wait.
I wait, longing
To embrace silence with
Arms that
Belong to One.

What To Write Poetry About?

There are so many poetry prompts and ideas that are insanely original and mind-blowing no matter how many times they’ve been used. If something inspires you enough to turn it into a poem, then feel free to seek for your inspiration anywhere you like, even if those are the resources of other poets as well.

Now these that I’ll be sharing with you are the combination of my own ideas, other people’s suggestions and some of the writing prompts I’ve seen on the Internet. 

I hope you do get to use them, or at least consider while writing some of yours. They certainly did inspire me in many ways! 

  1. Write a poem that compares macroscopic world to the microscopic one. Use the concept of human existence and turn it into a poetic creation. Mention snowflakes and galaxies in the same stanza!
  2. Write about your shadow! Does it represent something else, your hidden side perhaps? Does it hold a different metaphor? Can you associate it with feelings?
  3. Write a letter to a stranger.
  4. Write a mystical poem about the ocean. Try using all your senses to describe it, tell us about its smell and the sound of waves, let it hold a secret you’re the only one that knows.
  5. Write a four line poem that would justify hypocrisy.
  6. Write a poem as if you are the composer that is creating a piano piece.
  7. Write a poem focusing on rhythm and sounds, use some of these words: staccato, drops, rage, clock, crescendo…Make it chaotic and as abstract as you can! 
  8. Write a poem about beautiful eyes of a random stranger you once saw while passing a street. Tell us about what they made you feel. Were they sorrowful eyes of a poor child, or wicked and mysterious, of a man with a dark hoodie?
  9. Write a poem about your secret life.
  10. Write a poem about nature, in a form of letter. Let it be a poem focusing on environmental issues.

I can’t think of any more. These turned out pretty simple, at the end. Most of them are my own ideas, and if you have some of your own, I’d like to hear them out!

5 Beautiful Poems About Nature

I’ve been reading some nature poetry recently and I figured, why not sharing it here since it’s something to make everybody’s day to much better and bring smiles on faces. So I shall be sharing five poems I think are the very best and most descriptive ones. Now these are written by people who were undoubtedly the brilliant minds of their time and there is quite alot to analyse about these poems. So I really hope you’ll find them intriguing as I did.

  •  A Bird Came Down by Emily Dickinson

A bird came down the walk:

He did not know I saw;

He bit an angle-worm in halves

And ate the fellow, raw.
And then he drank a dew

From a convenient grass,

And then hopped sidewise to the wall

To let a beetle pass.
He glanced with rapid eyes

That hurried all abroad,-

They looked like frightened beads, I thought;

He stirred his velvet head
Like one in danger; cautious,

I offered him a crumb,

And he unrolled his feathers

And rowed him softer home
Than oars divide the ocean,

Too silver for a seam,

Or butterflies, off banks of noon,

Leap, plashless, as they swim.

  • To A Butterfly by William Wordsworth

Stay near me–do not take thy flight!

A little longer stay in sight!

Much converse do I find in thee,

Historian of my infancy!

Float near me; do not yet depart!

Dead times revive in thee:

Thou bring’st, gay creature as thou art!

A solemn image to my heart,

My father’s family!
Oh! pleasant, pleasant were the days,

The time, when, in our childish plays,

My sister Emmeline and I

Together chased the butterfly!

A very hunter did I rush

Upon the prey:–with leaps and springs

I followed on from brake to bush;

But she, God love her, feared to brush

The dust from off its wings.

  • A Minor Bird  by Robert Frost 

I have wished a bird would fly away,

And not sing by my house all day;
Have clapped my hands at him from the door

When it seemed as if I could bear no more.
The fault must partly have been in me.

The bird was not to blame for his key.
And of course there must be something wrong

In wanting to silence any song.

  • A Fallen Leaf by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

A trusting little leaf of green,

A bold audacious frost;

A rendezvous, a kiss or two,

And youth for ever lost.

Ah, me!

The bitter, bitter cost.
A flaunting patch of vivid red,

That quivers in the sun;

A windy gust, a grave of dust,

The little race is run.

Ah, me!

Were that the only one.

  • Bird by Pablo Neruda

It was passed from one bird to another,

the whole gift of the day.

The day went from flute to flute,

went dressed in vegetation,

in flights which opened a tunnel

through the wind would pass

to where birds were breaking open

the dense blue air –

and there, night came in.
When I returned from so many journeys,

I stayed suspended and green

between sun and geography –

I saw how wings worked,

how perfumes are transmitted

by feathery telegraph,

and from above I saw the path,

the springs and the roof tiles,

the fishermen at their trades,

the trousers of the foam;

I saw it all from my green sky.

I had no more alphabet

than the swallows in their courses,

the tiny, shining water

of the small bird on fire

which dances out of the pollen.

Welcome to my blog!

Hello fellow readers, writers and bloggers!

Welcome to my blog where I’ll be posting everything related to poetry, books, writing, inspiration and so much more.

The reason I made this blog is mostly the curiosity of trying different things (yes, this is my first blog ever and no, I have no clue how to use it yet).

I’ve been inspired by so many people I randomly found out there blogging about their lives and experiences and sharing their powerful stories. I think these things are worth reading for everybody who needs a daily inspiration, motivation, or simply to read something a bit refreshing. Don’t you think?

So a bit about me. My name is Hope and I’m still a student. Not studying anything related to literature and therefore trying to find the best of it in my free time (which I rarely have, to be quite honest) I’m in love with sound of ocean and forests and am deeply inspired by anything related to nature. Or poetry. Or basically anything pure and positive.

Hope you’ll like my little place here, fellow readers and bloggers!