#NaPoWriMo Day One

4am hurts like
blunted knives in your ribcage
cold fire in your veins
and crushed glass in your skin.

4am hurts like your ex.

Your heart and body aches
for reasons you don’t understand,
curled around yourself and convulsing
cursing and  breath,

Fists closed, arms crossed, jaw clenched
to protest and protect;
Every breath, every moment
feeling like hard time and hard labour.

Dull pain and panic burrow and settle
and scuttle and gnaw
like unwanted mice nestling
in your chest

Your body and soul is a punch bag
propped up against a worn out mattress
left out in the rain
ready for landfill.             

© Emilie C. Black, 2020

2017 – A Year in Review

A long short summary of 2017.

Another year over, and what a year it’s been. It’s had ups and downs and tears and laughter and clichés and bad metaphors. It has been a year.

But I have never felt as successful as I have coming out of this year. This year, I did so many things I didn’t expect me to do ever.

I won not one but two poetry slams, I performed music on stage for the first time since 2013, I managed to write 100 Poems in 100 Days (I still don’t know how I managed that).

I had my first ever stand-up comedy gig (it was terrifying, it was amazing), I got to perform alongside one of my poetry idols and busted some more comedy and broke my roleplaying game cherry with The Comedy Roleplaying Hour at this year’s Edinburgh Fringe.

I had my first paid feature poetry gig, I wrote, produced and performed my first ever full-length poetry show at the Edinburgh Horror Festival, and became part of the team that run the Edinburgh Horror Festival.

I had my first ever compere gig, started a new cabaret band/duo, and started work on a new live poetry event with a good friend of mine which is due to debut early next year. And finally, to top it all off, I was named Stage Time Promotions ‘Best Poetry/Spoken Word Act of 2017.’

Across music, comedy and poetry (and hosting) I’ve performed 36 times this year. That’s insane. That’s 36 more performances than I expected to do in my life. There’s so many people in my life that I need to thank. This has been unexpected. For the first time in 25 years, I feel proud of myself.

It’s not been without its battles. Mental health, homelessness, nerves, losing friends, drifting away from people. No life is 100% perfect.

But this year came pretty damn close.

I’d like to say a huge thank you to all of you, the people who’ve read the poems, the people who have listened to/watched me perform. The people who have let me perform (Inky Fingers’ wonderboys, Freddie and Ross, the beautiful Lloyd and Matt behind The God Damn Debut Slam, my good friend Ross who I produce the Freakeasy Showcase with, the Edinburgh Horror Festival, and the organisers of From The Horse’s Mouth).

My sound operator, Graham, and poster designer, Ash from We All Have Fears.

To all my friends who have supported me and listened to my surrealist ramblings while trying to write something. To all my friends who have been there on any level. My friends online and on the earth. There are so many of you. I can’t thank you enough.

And finally, thank you, dear readers. You don’t know me, and yet you’ve taken the time to stick around and read this. You’ve read the blogs, you’ve read the poems. You’re amazing. And I love that you’ve been hanging around, commenting when you can. Liking, sharing, communicating, supporting. Thank you.

Bring on 2018 and the next adventure!

#PoeticAnswers 6 – When You Were Little, What Did You Want to Be When You Grew Up?

During the misadventures of my youth
I was torn between
“Spaceman” and “dinosaur”.
But when you’re four,
You don’t know.

I knew I didn’t want to be an adult
Because adults were boring
And regularly abandoned me
In this weird room of bright colours and toys.
I should’ve been resentful, but I had toys.

I spent seventeen years
Locked in education,
Gaining the years and transforming.
Gaining and losing friends, sense and myself
But every day I’m still learning, I can’t be grown up

These days, I sit in an office
That slowly suffocates me.
I’m mature enough to know responsibility,
But I know I can’t be grown up,
I still have a Chewbacca bobble-head on my desk.

I’ve definitely grown old
And I’ve definitely grown out
But I haven’t grown up.
I still don’t know what I want to be.
I’m still torn between “Spaceman” and “dinosaur”.

Question from Cat T. from Facebook