Lee Jane Taylor’s writing explores the experience of illness and wellness, domesticity and nature, imagination and memory, with a view of the sky.
Check out new poem “Time-Lapse Portrait” in the coming 2025 edition of “Aotearoa Poetry Yearbook”. Anthology book to be released and in bookshops from August!
Find Lee’s poems “Personal Pronoun in Greyscale” and “She is Being Not Enough” in “Tarot Poetry”, online journal, June Edition out now!
Lee is keeping busy working towards a Masters in Creative Writing.
The sculpted shape my life makes, its carved impression into what surrounds, is small
while the details divide and multiply on close inspection, more
complication, more busy function
–
my shape fits snug into the around, much as a ring on my finger, the worm or lion in their notch
of food chain, a stubborn outcrop of rock
holds against an unseeing whole
–
of ocean, watch – it licks us away slow, each mundane gesture of survival here is an overcoming
forebeared, the ocean tastes us with all the time of a world
everything swallowed returns, our forms
–
forged in connection, rejection, bleating its strangely affecting feline chords the sea
returns our forms to the wordless, from where
we, scraped and molded, emerge.
Original poem and image by Lee Jane Taylor
(Photo by Duskfall Crew on Unsplash)
Underground tunnelled land new home, notes of asphalt and smoke, weary eyes light votives to unknown gods; Rūamoko smiles sees she
steps in the habit of boats human destinies float in her shoes respire through her skin, thin amphibian inhalations of sleep excretes salty wishes creeks
run with tadpoles dream the shock of legs muscular long but her will is not so strong as her cup, soon succumbs to whim;
Swimming thoughts become devilled eggs blanche her in watery depths moves cold doesn’t see herself coming doesn’t know herself as she goes.
Rise must make surface gasps with eyes closed stows each heartbeat now a stranger, tamps in her chest suggests a chill new blowing in
gulp the thrill savour the gusting pong it is fathomless autumn, and everything everyone is kneeling to the mustard flow already she allows its
golden mouth upon her soul dragging licks along her sagging throat it will swallow us whole, moths clocks the orbs of dynasties all swoon in
its amber wake, we fall and the fallen only breathe to leave strands of protein wipe the future from the corner of her eye sign her name
where only patterns remain beyond the shrill rush of waterways the still of ponds this god won’t play any game of muses is always mute caprice is
ruthless beauty laughing in the face of moons and suns, she takes six seeds she tastes the rite of queens on her tongue, she eats them one by one.
Rūamoko meanwhile he smiles youngest son husband of death chief executive of quakes and volcanic change, replenishes her plate, with kūmara
petals purple and white proud blooms of stress the earth well washed from her roots mind rinsed in gloom, we sit together in knowledge of seasons
her meal is freedom her food is doom in colours of fire and riches is replete, this harvest is inevitable tides of dominance, tender and complete.
Yesterday an echo of Persephone walks our coasts, victim complicit alone Demeter’s name never breaching these shores parental grief too vast
for ocean passage, she returns below summer done gleaming patapata in hand gleaned from koru frond Papa’s tears Rūamoko nods in kinship
their origins so far wide their stars collide and settle in the underbelly of life, both knowing the strife a child lives in void of a mother’s forgotten natural power.
“Papa” or “Papatūānuku” in NZ Māori tikanga is the spiritual mother and embodiment of the land. “Demeter” in Greek myth, when her daughter is bonded to the underworld, her grief causes the first winter.
Sky House is overdue for a “Staircase” (self-care) post. However, Lee is on an unscheduled “wellness hiatus”. In the meantime, here is some poetry prettiness from the sick bed…
Your exotic horticultural brush sweeps
full my palm with feel of cats paw in
retracted claw or, sleeping arctic shrew
your petal needles like haberdashery wound tight
threads unspool to bloom, already sunseed ended
before you fire a rocket in still life you are
true scarlet make roses weep at your pebbled feet
you brighter than blood brighter than tulips
on dark leaf you can embezzle Christmas
you are ecstasy indulgence colour effulgence
of gnarly old tree, arrive to me in
young hands greedy for, generous with beauty
your botanical incarnations of buddhist
lama’s bodies of joy, undulating tassels
celebrate abundance, the one amongst
many, all your neat little bundles in rows
progeny tucked in ruby oriental hair bows
food for inspiration whisper poems: paint
compositions in each cough of wind breath
embroidered flower fluffs branches
all for nourishment and pleasure of our bell
spoken, silver watching ones velvet tongues
hungry in cooler months for foreign feasts
all to free your tiny yellow seeds
to voyage possibilities, live circularities
Pohutukawa, Rata and the only Aussie I
ever truely loved is Banksia, honeysuckle
christmas blooms as red bottle-brush.
Thank you to the beautiful Anouk for administrating this post.
Meri Kirihimete, happy holidays, and a soulful solstice to all.
Photo by Don Ricardo on Unsplash
Cloud, storms, rain, hail flurries and
forks of lightning, star blaze and a waning
moon, comet flare and meteor streak, eclipses
occasional rainbow miracles
poetry resides in skies in vividity of light wild
rides backs of water drops sculpting
stratus scapes colour draped by sunrise
flows through eyes mild
and murkied, quiet mind, busy finger tips
dip grace in words lightly ink brink
of endless expansiveness, sense
records in finite edits this
evanescence of wilderness and minds
poetry is not mine, poetry resides in skies.
Minds live wide lives from the ways
of wild waters to slow mountains lumber
unimpeded, North and South grow
with each shock rumbling kick Papa’s
final progeny reaches out to arms of sky
stretching prominence into dominance
alps are spines of memory lumbar peaks
instinctive, ancestral, personal, habitual
volcanic rock of memory, all masterful
ever clumping to higher ranges craggy
scar marks of time loom taller with years
yet an ocean always surrounds in vastness
blues deeply scattered with eyes of cuttlefish
distant whales kiss breaching fountainous
under touch of sun and melting stars that
ripple drip reform in salty breaths I can run
eyes along the sky skim an alpine spine and I
can turn back anytime to the coastline
dip feet in the cool fresh of sea its endless
possibilities, where dream creatures bloom
luminescent – the sea, is moved by tides
under watchful glow of weeping satellite
but in the deep, ocean currents flow free.
Photo by Amy Humphries on Unsplash
“It Winds” A lifetime is a long, long curl of quiet moments interrupted by noise though I searched to find I never met a straight line in all my life all observed it curves it coils winds through time only the stuff of minds mathematics logic humankind’s intent to order all straighten make predictable categorical all phenomena universal proves so beautifully unruly it is poetry in the end will always defy our black and white divides and in full colour mystify.
In my opinion, informed by cognitive-behavioural and mindfulness therapy practices, when journalling for self-care it is useful to keep in mind the following simple principles: Honesty, openness, kindness and balance. In today’s post I will discuss these briefly along with the use of reflective habit.
Honesty
Journalling is an opportunity to be completely honest. Your journal is one listener who will never judge you – guaranteed! Writing with honesty can be harder than it sounds. We are practiced at writing to convince, to impress or to seek a grade. Stripping these habits back to simple honesty can take some practice.
Take a moment recalling your thoughts and emotions today. There is no correct way to think or feel. Though sometimes others, or an “inner voice” may try to say there is. Honest entries are useful entries. If what you’ve written doesn’t quite ring true – that is interesting. Ask yourself, what is that about? Am I trying to be clever? Am I trying to avoid some feeling /idea? How come? You can then add or change a little detail if you like. I suggest not to re-write entries in general though. Whatever came out is ok (be kind!). Journalling is a “whole-book process”.
Openness
Being open means viewing each entry as an exploration. It is more helpful to start writing with “lets see where this goes” rather than “this had better help” or “I should write about X, Y, and Z”. Be open to new writing activities /approaches. Be open to mistakes. Mistakes lead to creativity. Going “off plan” is going somewhere new – it may lead to a dead end, but occasionally will lead somewhere wonderful. Be open to inspiration. What was the last thing that lit you up inside? Look for the little moments that sparked joy or intrigue. A new leaf on a pot plant, a moody streak of cloud, a delicious pastry, a painting or a song. If it moved you, then it is worth writing about.
Kindness
The essence of self-care is treating yourself with kindness. It may be helpful to set goals around length /frequency of entries. However, be flexible. Holding yourself to a rigid routine may be unkind and then the purpose is lost. Perfectionism is enemy numero uno of self-kindness. Perfectionism generates self-criticism.
When you have self-critical thoughts about your writing – pause and really take notice of what you are thinking. On inspection you may notice these thoughts are out of proportion, unreasonable, or unrealistic. Tell yourself gently that these thoughts are unhelpful and let them go. When you notice self-criticism within your writing, this may be an honest summation of where your mind has been through the day. It is helpful to have written this out where you can reflect on this intentionally. Again, try to respond kindly.
After some reflection, you might like to add a kind thought or two to finish your entry. For example, “Well, that didn’t work but I gave it a good try and I’m doing well at persevering at this, under the circumstances”. Helpful kind thoughts are realistic and believable (rather than overly positive).
Balance
You may choose to journal mainly gratitude, or as emotional venting, or as a record of symptoms, some other purpose or a combination. Whatever you main focus, if a goal is self-care and supporting wellness then it is best to aim for balance. Venting and symptom recording can be very helpful. However, a journal that is full only of symptoms, upsetting thoughts and challenging emotional experience is going to focus your attention on difficulty and may keep you stuck in negativity. Conversely, filling a journal with only gratitude and optimism may mean you are ignoring important daily experience.
Unacknowledged feelings have a way of haunting us, and denial can be harmful. This undermines the good work of journalling. We are unlikely to really believe the positivity and gratitude we are writing if we are not-so-secretly harbouring anxiety, frustrations, and grief just under the surface. It is best to aim for balance.
If you are focussing on gratitude – great, but consider starting each entry with a line or two about challenges of that day /week and how that feels. If you are focussing on venting – also great, but consider ending each entry with a line or two about something you are grateful for.
Reflection
You may have noted discussion of each principle references reflecting. Practicing reflection in your writing is a cornerstone of self-care. This can be developed by setting a habit at each entry. Before you start writing, take a couple of minutes reflecting back on your day /week.
How have you been feeling, emotionally and physically? What thoughts have been popping up or repeating? How have you been sleeping and dreaming? What have you been enjoying most? What has surprised you lately? As you finish your entry, read back on what you wrote. Consider the principles above. Does it sound honest, open, kind, balanced? If not, take an interest, be curious – what’s up with that? What’s in the way?
You may then want to address it immediately by adding to your entry. Sometimes it’s better to plan to explore the concern in a next entry. Or, more often, just thinking about it is useful. Learn and move on.
Distressing Thoughts: Sometimes distressing thoughts come through in journalling. When this happens it is best to discuss these with someone you trust. If this doesn’t settle your distress, then you should see your GP or family doctor to talk about possible supports. In the meantime, take more time for caring for yourself – keep a regular routine for eating, sleeping, exercising, do more resting, pleasant activities, relaxation and spend more time with supportive family /friends.
Your journal is for you and only you. It is a “whole-book process” and every entry is a record of a small piece of a long journey. There are bumps and twists and turns along the way. Often, the best bits in a trip are the strange, unexpected diversions!
There will be more journalling tips and discussion to come. Next “Staircase” post will be a small diversion. I will present a fun and interesting writing activity.
Take care x
Photo is by Mike Tinnion, from Unsplash.com
In our house love is shaped by folds
a proliferation of origami in spring cherries
blossoms on walls
love is drawn in small blue cups
stamps of affection float in foam
atop carefully wrought delicate textures
it is spelled in gestures
timed by close watching eyes olive green
with deft reach out by warm arms
after sharp words fly, miss and circle round
balanced in the elegant proofing of a formula
X = (1+ 1) 3 Y + (1+2)
where Y is the pattern of a favourite song
music being an equation played
the solution already known
love blooms, coloured by little hands
won’t hold still long for word sculpting
tendrils creep into wilds out gates we will
always leave open.
Spring is in full swing in the Southern Hemisphere. It is wonderful to finally feel some sunshine on bare unmasked faces here in the Sth Island of Aotearoa, NZ. I hope everyone in this part of the world is taking some time to enjoy the blossoms and blooms – both literal and metaphorical!
Take care x
Photo by Artyom Kulikov on Unsplash
Poetry and Calm
Poetry is (and should be!) so many things – abstract art, sociopolitical critique, a voice of the marginalised, humour, satire, a call to arms. A gem to wear under your skin. A vessel for dreams and dark magics.
My aim is to publish some of my poems here that support reflective thinking and calm. I will also be posting some reading recommendations, as well as relevant self-care tips*. In particular, around the use of mindful reading and writing to promote calm and wellness “steps to the front door of your own sky-house”.
Like any writer my poems will walk where they are want to go. Many germinate in the dark corners and dusty margins of life, in tunnels underground. I nurture them towards the light – because we all need more hope in our lives. Of course, hope is not pretending everything is well. Hope is staring head-on into the centre of darkness, finding a faint star, and holding focus on that promise of light.
while illness contains me, poetry sustains me
Poetry can be used effectively as a stimulus for a more mindful approach in our thinking and communicating. This is more than a psychological band-aid. This is a kind of replenishing self-care we all require in some form, in order to persevere with whatever battles we join – environmental, satirical or otherwise.
Reading recommendations and other feedback are warmly welcomed.
* These are informed by my psychology training and years of clinical experience as a therapist, as well as by my own experience of chronic illness.
Sky House Poetry 