Ever since I published my first poetry collection, I've been on a publishing or sharing lockdown. It's unfair to say, but I'd do things differently now. Last year hasn't been as productive as the years before, poetry-wise, and it all went in another way. Well, poems went another way, can't really say which, but I don't feel about them as I once did. Now I have expectations, I measure them, judge them... Really, it's a wonder that some still get written. I mean it's not like I didn't judge them before, I did, I just didn't let my judgment influence them... at least not as much as now. It's hard being critical of your own writing, on some level I want to make sense, and be clear, but on another I don't want to give too much away, and keep some sort of mystery and let the reader find, whatever he/she will find. And when rereading a poem, sometimes I'd feel, like it's really simple, and clear and a month later I wouldn't even know what I wanted to say. So...

This past weekend I wanted to write again. I put the song Death is the road to awe (soundtrack from one of my favourite movies, the Fountain) on the repeat, and my mind went into a zombie-like state after two days, yet I couldn't sqeeze a poem out of me. I did write some bits and pieces, like usually, some I have no idea what they wanted to say. But it's a really great song to get you in the mood...for writing and thinking. (And Oh, my God, I miss dancing!).

Slowly I'm starting to focus on my next poetry collection. I have an idea in my head. It'll be a bit different.

You'll be able to find more here: [link]