Q: What Are Whispered Words?
A: There are a lot of poems in this article, which means: A new section that might (or might not) be for you
If you would like to listen to a read-aloud version of this post, you can do this here:
Over the past month, I took part in “A Poem a Day March”. I managed almost all prompts, flagged on a couple but decided to add them slightly later regardless (because let’s be honest, if you have books ordered by size and colour on your shelf like me, those gaps in the timeline will annoy you sooner or later 😜).
I already had the “Whispered Words” section on my Substack for a while because I wasn’t entirely clear where to put my more personal musings, the odd story or, like now, poems. This first newsletter will go out to all my subscribers, but if that particular flavour isn’t for you and you are mainly here for The Creative Cure, you can absolutely toggle Whispered Words off, like so:
But of course I hope you’ll stick around for this one, too…
With that out of the road, the past month taught me a lot, both in terms of my writing/creative process, and also about putting snippets of it on this platform. I loved writing a poem every day, even if not every prompt felt inspiring in the same way. But even the ones that intitially felt “meh” still say something about me I guess, and I always thought this about poetry anyway: While no writer exists in a vacuum, and parts of us will always bleed into our stories, I find this particularly true for poetry.
There’s also a lot to be said for… being concise? Saying everything that needs to be said with only a few words—very hard for someone like me, who is usually a long-form writer. Nevertheless, I’ve always loved writing poems, and it felt really good to get back into it.
I have published each poem via Notes because I didn’t want to annoy everyone with daily email updates, and I still think that was a good decision. Having said this, I can’t help but feel that Substack Notes seem to be invisible for the most part (unless something random triggers the algo ;)). Then again, poetry seems to be a dying art form anyway—I don’t only notice this on here, but in other places as well. Add to this that even I find it confusing to trawl through my Notes and find stuff, I thought it might be a nice idea to just collect all poems in one post, so here they come (if you are listening to the read-aloud version: All poems are individually linked in the post):
Day 2: In the Event of an Emergency
Day 4:
Day 7: Ode to My Internet Search History
Day 13: What My Dating Profile Doesn’t Say
Day 15:
Day 17: Against My Better Judgment
Day 19: If Nothing Goes to Plan
Day 20: Aubade
In the blue hour between night and morning, I watch the shadows retreat from your face. The first light finds you, tracing the curve of your shoulder.
Sleep holds you still in its gentle grip while I've already crossed into wakefulness. Outside, birds begin to sing their song. The world is waking into itself again.
I study how your eyelids flutter while chasing the last fragments of dreams, the way darkness dissolves, how the day arrives without permission.
I memorise you in this liminal space before you return to yourself.
Soon you will open your eyes, and this moment will dissolve like mist under the sun. But for now, I hold this tender silence, this threshold between what was and what will be.
Day 22: Falling Leaves, Falling Apart
Day 23: This Is What I Tell Them
Day 24: I Was Wrong About…
I was wrong about the quiet moments. How they don't always need to be filled. How silence can be a language of its own, spoken by two people who understand the weight of words unsaid.
I was wrong about forgiveness, thinking it would feel like freedom when really it's more like learning to carry something heavy in a different way.
I was wrong about healing. How it doesn't happen in a straight line but spirals back on itself, visits old wounds, leaves you different but the same each time.
I was wrong about love. Not just the falling, but the staying. How it looks less like fireworks and more like deciding, every morning, to witness someone's becoming.
I was wrong about myself. All those years spent apologising for taking up space, for having needs, for being a complicated tome instead of an easy story.
I was wrong about endings. How they're rarely clean breaks but long, messy aftermaths of memory and meaning. How sometimes they're just pauses before a different beginning.
I was wrong about many things, but maybe being wrong is how we learn to rewrite the stories we've been telling ourselves for far too long.
Day 27: Collateral Damage
i am a grenade
with my pin already pulled
i did not mean to bleed
all over their good intentions
but some wounds
cannot help but spread
i am trying to learn
how not to be a weapon
how to hold myself
without shattering everyone near me
some cycles
are meant to be broken
Day 28: What I Left Behind
I left behind the echoes of laughter
In rooms now silent,
Where shadows stretch long.
Whispers of dreams I dare not follow.
I left behind the weight of expectations,
An invisible chain,
The comfort of familiarity,
For paths untrodden, in search of my name.
I left behind my fragile heart
Tucked away in pages of forgotten books,
A story half-written,
To be untethered and dance in the rain.
Here I stand, at the edge of becoming,
Answering a quiet call.
Yet still I carry pieces of yesterday
And what I left behind.
Day 29: Beyond Reasonable Doubt
Day 31: Ode to…
i spent years trying to be smaller, folding myself into spaces that were not built for me. now I unfold
i am learning that my body is not an apology, my voice is not a whisper, my heart is not a burden
they told me to be soft, to be quiet, to be still, but they never told me to be me
i water myself daily with forgiveness, with patience, with the kind of love i once saved only for others
today i celebrate the mountains in my spine, the rivers in my veins, the universe that chose to exist as me
If you made it to here: Thank you for reading and being on this journey with me…
Share The Creative Cure with your creative friends. Spreading the word is hugely appreciated.
I didn't get to them all, but read enough here to really appreciate your work. Love the easy lyricism and the sharp insights, delivered with both grace and punch. Really nice work throughout. I'll be back.