made a banging Shepherd’s pie the other day. i was thinking how a year & a bit ago i wouldn’t have gone near the kitchen. my bf would make dinner or it would be sandwiches or a takeaway (i used to eat way too much fried chicken) bk then i was struggling to have the confidence to make scrambled eggs. what’s changed other than my realising i needed to make changes to be health -ier & making the effort, even when i wanted to run for the hills, far far away from the kitchen. the kitchen where i was probably making too many mistakes & getting measurements wrong & thinking this is going to taste like crap & why do i bother & this is stupid. then i started looking at recipes & thinking maybe, maybe. then it was omlettes. i love eating omlettes when i’m in Portugal & bk home even my bf was stumped at how you make them. my early omlettes was fucking awful. i mean how you can fuck up cooking a few eggs, who knows. eggs do their own thing anyway, most of the time. now i’m cooking things that have more than two ingredients to keep an eye on & have less basic instructions to ’em. i don’t know what im meant to deduce from this, apart from –
✴️ habits are hard to start & require patience at first ✴️ you don’t have to believe in yourself to start, you need the desire & whatnot ✴️ my anxiety tells me a lot of bs ✴️ some activities like cooking are what they are & you can be in the present moment & not be looking too far ahead or too far bk ✴️ fucking up can be fun, it isn’t the end of the world ✴️ if you want to do something, do it & don’t be looking for someone else’s approval
written by Kate @k_lpoetry
p.s if you’re looking for a new read, 12 micro-poems in Pocket Poems from my Payhip store
12 micro-poems that follow the arc of the start of a summer to its end. These vary from traveling the subway, favourite ice cream flavours & to ‘memories – fleeting passengers / all of irregular shapes,’
Poems taken from my book Here comes the Sun. Published in 2017.
poems The Open Road, Subway, Pending, Euro’s, Tongs, Tub and Spoon, Fragile, Peel, Outside, Marina, South & Smoke Filled Rooms.
Hello. Here to share a contest where you can win publication and books. Courtesy of one of my favs Fly on the Wall Press. If you see the thread below you can find out all about it.
Become a Patron!
The term Instapoet bothers me. It seems to me that it has a negative meaning. It is generally in media articles used to group together writers that have chosen to publish snippets of their poetry on Instagram and have had some success in doing so. I also cannot help but notice that a large part of Instapoets are women.
Instapoets versus ‘Instapoets’ The apostrophes used maybe to deride those writers, like me, and maybe you, and to say you have merely captured the attention of many on a social media platform. Whilst typically in the poems using line breaks (Or, some might argue, inserting a line break after every three words) and taking on controversial subjects, such as feminism.
When I think of women that were but a century ago using pen names to even be published, and that women can now self publish their experiences, from abuse, to being belittled. These words give me, and many others, strength. And hope too. What was taboo is now not. Voices in vast majorities are ringing out, and are being heard.
Jennae Cecelia and Amanda Lovelace were two poets that first set me on the path of discovery of self – love, and self – care. Concepts that had never been presented to me were now in black and white. Why was I feeling so alone, empty, angry? These voices answered the questions.
I have had a small dawning recently that the books I hold in my hands have made me feel normal.
I do not subscribe to the view that Instapoets are any less a poet, because they are not a classical poet, or a beat poet. Poetry changes over the years, as does our language, fashion, and culture. Your poetry is not any less because you choose to share your words on a social media platform, perform them at an Open Mic night, or keep them to yourself. Poetry is an open dialogue that can connect us all together. Today I feel incredibly grateful that I have poetry.
J. R. Rouge
As always with Peeking Cat there is a varied selection of poems and stories from writers in Scotland to Bangor. I like the travel theme in this issue, particularly as it is coming up to *that* time of year.
The Rush to Relax by David Attree is a delightful rhyming poem on the experiences of travel: what to do with your hoodie, have you got your passport, luggage weight, the body scanner, and so on. Twelve Dark Days of Summer by Michelle Wray is a sombre depiction of a gloomy outdoor scene, of which us in the UK are quite used to. There are also song lyrics in A First Broken down Valise by Chris Rogers, an excellent prose piece in A Study of Frowns by John E. McBride, and a sobering story His Mistress by Rafael Pursley, in gardens, with flowers, used as metaphors for a troubled relationship.
Another fantastic issue of Peeking Cat Poetry Magazine.