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So, there’s a writing room/group that I’m part of on Clubhouse, and each week the moderator gives us some images which we can use as a writing prompt.

This was the image I picked last week:

The following is the story I began based on this image. It doesn’t exactly match with the scenery, but it was where my mind took me.

I think I’m going to call it ‘Dayo’s Djinn.’

After twenty minutes of walking through the woods, Bemi was tired. Her feet felt stiff and uncomfortable, and the tips of her toes were straining against the rigid leather of her boots. “Where could this boy have gone?” She muttered to herself. She had only taken her eyes off of Dayo for two seconds, and in that time he had managed to disappear from her view completely. She closed her eyes briefly, allowing herself an inward sigh of frustration.

Ever since Bemi’s mum had married Dayo’s dad, her life had transformed into what felt like a series of interruptions. First had come the intrusion of her stepdad; his arrival seemed to have diluted the close-knit relationship between herself and her mum, which she sorely resented. If that wasn’t bad enough, she’d then had to adapt to being a big sister, a role that she hadn’t asked for, which seemed to come with a copious amount of responsibility. “Bemi, make sure you collect Dayo from school on your way home.” “Ah ah Bemi, are you not going to share the sweets with your brother? That’s not fair now.” “Bemi you’re too old to still be watching these cartoons, Oya! give the remote to your brother.”

It was never-ending. Still, even though she couldn’t stand the brat, it didn’t mean she wanted anything bad to happen to him.

And after searching the woods for thirty minutes with no sign of him, she was beginning to feel scared.

What are we doing with our time? I often think about how much time we spend thinking about doing things, instead of doing them. It’s normal to procrastinate and have moments where we feel demotivated and unable to move forward- but it’s important that we do.

I wrote this poem, because I too was feeling a little stagnant and I wanted to press away from this feeling. I wanted to continue to do instead of imagine. Each day is an opportunity to do a little more. So, let’s keep pushing on and do more. I hope you enjoy this poem.

Listen to the most recent episode of my podcast: A New Love https://anchor.fm/adenike-ponle/episodes/A-New-Love-ep7kqh

New podcast poem ❤️

We will all be just fine. 🤍

So, it’s dayyy whatever of lockdown. How have I used the time? Why I’ve written of course, I’ve been in a deep state of expression and creativity and it’s been so refreshing. I’ve gained some invaluable insight into writing and the road to becoming an author, and I feel even more committed to realising my dreams and staying on my journey.

I recognise that it’s been a while since I wrote on here. I suppose I went ‘in’ for awhile. I’m still learning to pull myself out of myself and face outwards. My poetry helps me to face outwards, it helps me to confront my feelings, to examine them and express them. There’s a poem I wrote a couple of weeks ago, which is essentially about falling back in love with yourself.

I wrote it because it’s what I needed to hear at the time. I hope you like it ✨

I am currently searching for something new to read (which translates to me browsing through kindle unlimited on my kindle). The last thing I read which I really enjoyed was Winston Graham’s Poldark series. I thought he painted a very vivid picture of Cornwall and sharply outlined the conditions of poor Cornish folk, which felt more pronounced when juxtaposed against the rich tapestry of the wealthy. One of the things I liked most about Graham’s series was his writing style.

“There were no tears in her. The wound went too deep, or she was not so constituted to give way to it. Hers would be the perpetual ache of loss and loneliness, slowly dulled with time until it became a part of her character, a faint sourness tinged with withered pride.”

-Winston Graham

Such a heartbreakingly poetic image of Demelza’s sorrow. Graham explains grief perfectly here-it’s a sense of being permanently bruised.

I’m not really sure where to begin to be honest. I suppose I’ve found myself here because it is time that I actively put my love of writing, reading, and literary creativity into something useful. I finished my MA in English Literature towards the end of 2018 and since then I’ve felt directionless. I find my brain is constantly teeming with thoughts, anxieties and reminiscences and I’d like a place to centre these things. Arrange whatever pieces come your way is one of my most favourite quotes of Virginia Woolf’s, and it’s because it encompasses how life and moments presents themselves to us- as layers and fragments of things that we are tasked with ordering. I hope my blog will be a place where I can begin to order myself, and if like me you’re in need of doing some sorting, I hope this blog is both useful and entertaining for you.

I will also be uploading some of my creative writing pieces on here, among these is a book that I began writing about a year ago, and I’m going to upload chunks of it on here as I make progress with it. I’d be interested to read your comments and see what you make of the story and characters. 🙂

So, today is the first day of the new year. It is currently the 1st of January 2021 and after a significant phone call with my sister (who quite accurately decided I was in need of big sistering), I now feel some of the fog that’s been in my head for the past couple of years beginning to lift. Normally I would consider trying to fix everything at once, which would inevitably overwhelm me, and then of course discourage me from doing anything at all. But I don’t want to do that anymore, I simply want to go forwards.

So let’s have a toast to going forwards. 😉

Goodnight musers,

#firstblogpost #zerotohero #anewroadandanewbeginning