I've been a bit stressed out lately, particularly at work, and in one meeting found myself writing the sort of miserable, self-conscious poetry I last wrote as a misfit teen.
Three meetings I had three more poems (and was still able to make good contributions to business, if you were wondering - I am nothing if not a multi-tasker). They all shared themes of endings, of gloom, time interrupted and, for some reason I have long ceased to try and understand, water.
I used to write a lot of poetry as a teen - is it something that goes hand in hand with haywire hormones, I wonder? I loved to write sonnets in the same way people love to do SoDuKo, the difficulty of fitting the form and working within the pattern appealed to me, somehow. My efforts back then were a lot to do with transformations, isolation, love, and again, time interrupted and water.
And whether it was cathartic, or nostalgic, my recent mid-meeting scribblings really did make me feel better. Perhaps I just needed to write.
Did your adolescent self dabble in odes?