Sharing Some Of My Poetry…

Hi all!

To cap off the infamous 2020, I am going to share with you some of my favourite pieces of poetry that I wrote this year. If you guys enjoy it, I’ll happily do more in the future. I’m going to keep the really personal ones to myself but for the ones in this post, I’ll provide some insight behind what each one is about. I’m no Lang Leav but I’m passionate and I hope you can feel the emotion/meaning behind my words. Without further ado, let’s get into it!

1.) SMOKE 

*This poem is about a former friend that stopped speaking to me out of the blue. I never found out why she suddenly disliked me. It still hurts to this day. It’s called ‘Smoke’ because she was a smoker and I spent a lot time with her outside talking about anything and everything whilst she puffed on a cigarette. 

I’ve never liked smoke, but it kept us close. I’ll never forget your designer bag name and crooked nose. I’ll never understand your ebbs and flows or how we suddenly came to blows. I’ll never get my answer that only you know… 


*This poem is about my daughter Abigail. I have always hated the winter season until she came along and changed my mind. FYI: in Australia, July takes place in the middle of winter. 

All of my life, I hated the cold. The way it aches my bones and keeps me old. If you only knew how you turned winter to gold. My snowflake, you came in the midst of July and I was sold.


*In my poetry journal, I’ve written a lot about mental health. This poem is about my anxiety. 

Deep inside, there’s a battle that rages. If you witnessed its passion, you’d say it’s one for the ages. The longer I fight, the longer it wages. Swirling chemicals locked up in their cages. One thing that is constant in all of life’s stages. Is the war that keeps winning throughout these pages.


*In November, I shared my #ME TOO story. You can check that out here. In that post, I mentioned I was approached by a 50 year old man at just 16 years old. This poem is about that incident. 

Being too nice comes with a price. It means you’re asking for more. I’m only 16 but you’re very keen. It means you’re wanting to score. I said I was taken but I was mistaken. It means you don’t care at all. I thought it was right, to be polite. You meant to make me feel small. 


*For my horror lovers out there, this poem is about the iconic Pennywise

Come on down, underground, where the drains run red. Your twisted smile and festive guile is sure to knock me dead. I’m floating and falling from your wicked lights. Dance my clown and take a bow, you’re my warped delight! 


*This poem is about my postpartum depression. It was very hard to write but I wanted to share it today. 

Nothing breaks a spirit more than two extremes at war. I’m filled with so much joy whilst screaming on the floor. You’re everything I wanted but I’m a broken mess. The best thing in my life wrapped me in darkness…


*This poem discusses coming to terms with the part I played in upholding systemic racism. 

I was blind but now I see, the colours there in front of me. The way my silence took up space and held me hostage against race.


*This poem is dedicated to my dear friend Eve, who passed away several years ago. My daughter’s middle name is Eve in tribute to her. 

You’re watermelon mint salad and tender, loving hugs. You’re my angel aunt and tea for two in cute, antique mugs. You’re the night before and the sunny days. You’re the one who loved to cook. You’re a middle name and Adam’s mate and my most precious book. 


*This is written from the perspective of Abigail, who may ask me one day how I knew her father was the one for me. 

How did I know, well I’ll tell you my dear. You see I never did doubt. How did you know that it was true love? Well it felt like my brain was in drought. Empty for once and no longer confused. That’s what love is about! 


*This poem is about my late grandfather. Gone but never forgotten…

Pocket squares and messy hair. Casks of wine and heart divine. Builder’s hands and feet that dance. Gone too soon, our misfortune…


*This poem is about my abusive father.

I used to think monsters weren’t real. They belonged in the tales I read. I wasn’t afraid to turn out the light, for there weren’t any under my bed. But monster’s exist, albeit well disguised. I heard one stomping around. Its footsteps clomp-clomped inside of my house and I cowered in fear of the sound. 


*This is the longest poem I have ever written. It’s about my evolution as a person. It wasn’t until I gave birth that I started really thinking for myself and not just believing everything I heard on the Internet. I love that I’m finally here. 

To truly understand who I am, you have to know where I’ve been. I was a cheeky tot, a bullied kid and deeply insecure teen. I trusted everything others said. I shrank myself so small. It was the blind leading the blind, listening to those that thought they knew all. All it took was a video to change the way that I ate. And at one point, I refused to touch oil, lest it poisoned my fate. I actually thought Taylor was the problem instead of the boys. I practiced yoga as a poser, wearing floral crowns as decoys. It wasn’t until I gave birth that I was born again. I rejected everything that I knew and paved my own path with a pen. I started to question, research and think. I began to take hold of the reins. I left a lot of the old Bec behind but she needed a whole new brain. I may have changed and that’s okay. This is my truest form. My own evolution is so strong that it’s taken my world by storm. 


*This poem is about how we always want what we can’t have, so we might as well accept ourselves as we are. 

We always want what we can’t have. The grass is always greener. A redhead wishes she was blonde. The thick girl starves for leaner. I spent a lot of wasted time, thinking worth equated thin. But when a model cried that she felt fat, I knew no one could win. 


*I wrote this poem for my grandmother who passed away this year. I read it out at her funeral…

We remember you in summers spent by the beach. The memories warm, sunny and clear. We remember you in soul-nourishing meals. The strawberries dipped in sugar and oily chips that we held dear. We remember you in board games. The way you loved to play. We remember you in laughter. The silly things you used to say. We remember you so fondly. The love you had for us. We remember you in shopping. The travels on the bus. We remember you in family. The moments we all shared. We will remember you for always. Our Nonna Leda, we know you cared…


*This poem is about the complex nature of my OCD. I blogged about it this year, which you can check out here

The rules are not so simple. They change all the time. The rules exist within this book. Four poems that must rhyme. The rules are just imaginary. They are not set in stone. The rules must bend, snap and break. Their cover has been blown. 


*This is a feminist poem. 

I enjoy getting scared except when it’s real. I’m fond of a natural face. I haven’t worn heels since I tried to fit in and my hair is all over the place. I fart and I game and I’m not very tame but before you call me a ‘dyke.’ I’m just who I am and I don’t give a damn if that isn’t very ‘ladylike.’


 *This is another poem about my OCD. 

I hate to love you but I love to hate you. I want you and then I don’t. You’re my superpower but you overpower until I’m screaming “no I won’t.” We fight so often but you typically win. I’m a slave to your demands. I’ll keep coming back because you’re the best. I know you like the back of my hands. 


 *This poem is about my darling Abigail. 

Love is a seven letter word. It hugs me in the middle. Love is an angel face that beams. It plays my heart like a fiddle. 

19.) WHO AM I? 

*This poem is about my narcissistic father. 

Who am I in the wake of a narcissistic parent? When you’ve never been the star of the show, how are you supposed to know? 


*This last poem is about growing up a female in a patriarchal society. 

Why does it get to the point that it does? Why don’t they stop way before? Who taught them it was okay just to take? Who taught them just to ignore? Why were we told to change how we dress? Why were we told where to walk? How does it get to the point that it does? All that’s required is a consensual talk. 

I hope you enjoyed this post. What did you think? I wish you all a wonderful New Year’s celebration and may 2021 be much better than 2020!

Peace & Love xoxo

9 thoughts

  1. I enjoyed this post a great deal. I like your poetry: they rhythm, the way you use words, the subjects. I especially liked this line from the first, “Smoke”: ” I’ll never forget your designer bag name and crooked nose.” ❤️️

  2. Thank you so much for sharing these, it’s apparent that they come straight from your heart and that makes them so powerful. My favorite one is My Joyful Misery. There’s so much to relate to in a paradox of conflicting feelings like that, and it’s so beautifully written!

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