poetry as an influence

Poetry as an influence 

08/01/2025 

Poetry and particularly spoken words have been an influence on my work for a while, I found my love for poetry through a YouTube channel called Button poetry, this channel holds live performances of many contemporary poets and introduced me to some of my favourites like Olivia Gatwood, Blythe Baird, Neil Hilborn, Melissa lozada oliva and of course Rudy Francisco. I often say the work of Rudy Francisco saved me, his work found me at a time when my own mental state was rather fragile, I couldn't see much light or beauty in the world around me but his poems helped me to regain an appreciation of my surroundings, and thus saving me. I often use applicable poems as a further form of research in my studio practice.

It took me a long time to actually write my own poems, and even now I don't really know if their technically poems, the punctuation is probably not right, I should of paid more attention during our poetry English lessons but I think I was just too young to fully appreciate the subject at the time. I have yet to write a happy poem, they aren't particularly sad but never overly happy. I think because when I am happy I am content, there is no yearning feeling to express emotion, maybe I’m just driven by a wanting to feel validated or seen in that emotion. I think this, like my other creative work, is just a further reflection of my everyday life. Perhaps all creative outlets i assume will have this same influence. 

My latest poem is called "the chair". I wrote this about an actual physical chair that I have in my room, I wrote it sat in the chair. However, once I had finished the poem I realised the chair might not be the actual chair anymore but my mother instead. 

The chair   

I have this chair in my room 

Don't really have capacity for the furniture 

Except our fates, make the space 

I love the chair in my room 

Free on Facebook marketplace

I ponder your history, time before me 

I think in this chair 

Cold wooden arms around me 

Slowly sways beneath me, treatment of a baby

I throw my weight on the chair

Held close, a ceiling that moves above me

A false memory, love that should've been rudimentary.