Exposed — Do Words Betray Who We Really Are?

On the Title’s Question

I ask the title’s question because I have long known that my words reveal me, they are keys to knowing who I am. Some people hide behind their words. I guess it comes down to whether you write from the heart or the intellect. Either way, as a reader, I tend to believe I have a poet’s measure from their words. This is, of course, an introductory palaver because I haven’t really got a proper topic today. Rather, I’m posting a few of my recent poems because, being a creature of habit, I find it hard to skip a month when I’ve been writing regular monthly posts for around five years, and this month, I have nothing to say.

Some of the poems here will be familiar to those who follow me on Instagram. Some are new, and the first one, ‘Brain Dead’, sums up my current situation quite nicely. I have just finished my second novel, They Who Nicked the Sun, which (see below) will become available soon, and until its launch in May, I feel in limbo.

‘The Shape of a Tree’ was written just before I finished my novel. Trees feature in my book, but the way the poem developed, I can now see, describes me writhing away, hiding from criticism, not that I knew it at the time of writing.

The next poem comes from meandering around the streets of Glenelg and the transformation of a lovely old colonial house that I dreamed of living in for many years. As I read it now, I think it is also a metaphor for ageing or being supplanted.

The next two poems are about trees. Funny that they formed in my mind as I wrote my tree-full novel.

I hope the following two poems are not too bleak. Death and dying have become central to my thinking as I age, and reflecting upon them fills me with love for this wonderful planet we share. My life has been enriched by many different landscapes, from the desert to the tropics.

It is a truism to say that life is fleeting, but I remember something the Dalai Lama once said when a journalist asked him if he got lonely travelling all the time as he then did. The monk replied, how could he be lonely, for every chair he sat on connected him to the carpenter who made it, every mouthful of food put him in the company of a farmer. I wish I could recall his actual words, but his point is that the world around us is alive with the history, activities and even personalities of people who are integral to our surroundings and his argument was therefore a question. How can we be lonely if we pay full attention?

Although this last poem was not consciously written with the Dalai Lama’s philosophy in mind, it echoes it.

So, did these poems tell you something about me or offer something to you? Please click below to download a free ebook collection entitled Dressed & Uploaded, where I offer the stories that underpin many of the illustrated poems on Wattletales and Instagram.

Epub version. or PDF version.

If you wish to purchase any of my other poetry books featured in the opening image, leave a message in the comments section below, and I’ll get in touch.

My novel, The Publican’s Daughter is available from Amazon and other print-on-demand outlets and Kindle. They Who Nicked the Sun will similarly be available as of 21 April. However, you can also purchase either or both books directly from me by leaving a message in the comments below or emailing me at lindy@wattletales.com.au.

Happy Writing

Wattletales

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Lindy