Busy times over there… the poems have been now collected into a book and the cover is almost finished.
Get ready to snoop into it soon. Will it be a single huge book or a collection of 6 episodes?
What would you prefer?
Keep in touch 🙂
Busy times over there… the poems have been now collected into a book and the cover is almost finished.
Get ready to snoop into it soon. Will it be a single huge book or a collection of 6 episodes?
What would you prefer?
Keep in touch 🙂
You have just landed on a website fruit of an experiment starting in science and finishing with poetry.
In 2016, I was running between the lab an the office, writing articles and coaching students. What a stressful life is the one of a scientist in academia! I am not alone saying this and the choir is crowded (ref. X, Y, Z). Thankfully there are many ways you can handle stress, once you recognise it.
One way to fight stress is poetry. Writing and reading poetry has ben proven to be more mindful and certainly makes you feel better. Studies has shown these positive effects (ref. A, B, C). I started posting short writing images of nature daily to this blog, that has become like a diary. Most of the writings will soon be included in a book while photos are all still available for you to enjoy. This activity has stimulated my creativity as you can see here, here, here, and here.
If you want to start writing and mentally escape the lab too, but don’t know where to start, check this strategy. I hope you’ll want to keep in touch and please leave me a message to share experiences an collaborate!
Do you need a push to escape a bit the lab and find comfort in writing poetry for yourself? You might like this.
The collection of 100 short sentences to stimulate your creativity and sense of humor… every scientist has one! Time to take those 5 min for yourself.
I cannot imagine myself
In thirty years
When i will have done my job
And pension will knock.
I hardly now envision what job
will require thirty years
And my will.
Even this tiny mirror
Can entrap my pride
When choosing what to do
And, this way, be.
Like milestones on the long road,
It will return me the truth
Regularly and unasked.
My arms are crossed
And my thoughts far away
When the bell rings.
The day is over
Or does it start?
I head home and fill the last hours
With tenderness and personality
Until the sleep comes
And my heart holds a list
With minute-long experiences and small memories.
Consistency and authenticity
Border the road
Where I roam apparently free.
Direction is forward
On the long term,
But today i will go sideway
And free myself
From the restrain of the map
Of a well accepted career.
I often deny the beauty
Of the world passing by
And neglect the true source
Of a life to remember.
Springing water can clean my avidity
With its transparent and youth
And I will make sure I will get surprised
Each time.
I love the words holding hands
And the sun hitting my keys
When nothing seems to happen
In a world of mistrust
Those Black ants start working
And scribble the life that could be.
Consistency and authenticity
Border the road
Where I roam apparently free.
Direction is forward
On the long term,
But today i will go sideway
And free myself
From the restrain of the map
Of a well accepted career.
My stomach is proudly full
Of minerals and proteins
That a silent plant produced in the sun.
I hardly notice their machineries
Humbly turning in the green spots
Waiting for respect.
My blood rushes and my lips distend
At the thought of new chapter.
Few pages are created naïve,
Blank and open.
Sentences drop like rice grains
Leaving tiny marks
Forever.
White hair between my fingers
And apparent on my mind,
Signal the time and story I have crossed.
Natural and unprecedented feathers
That take me to that next for of life
I am longing for,
Since a child.
I feel no cold in me
At Christmas time.
The weeks waiting
and the colours of the fire
Make me anticipate its value each year
And now is September
And I am already holding the calendar.
Just let it happen and distance yourself
By flying to the coming singer
And exploring for the perfect Christmas present
Whole they all waste words.
Nod and consider
W what is really important to you
And take notes
To plan your short but dense free time
And your next knitting project.
On a foot I cruise the lab,
Walking sideways in a diagonal,
I reach my high desk.
I stretch my neck to discover the documents,
Hiding silent in the back,
While the others follow me
with their eyes filled of water.
I march unnaturally
And the strength is artificial
When fighting is not a choice
but the only solution.
I March stiff and serious
For what will come through the door
And not only my body will be overdressed,
Yet judged.
On the sunny grass,
I refuse to count the minutes
And abandon myself into the light
And into this book with potential.
In a cone of rays,
Life seems logical
And nature an expected component,
Fast from the arrogant asphalt
Of home.
My story is apparent
On the skin of my willing hands
And on the edges of my smiling mouth.
I have written thousands of sentences,
Yet none is enough
Or necessary.
The coin has flipped
And my mood with it.
A simple bet turns into an exercise
Of patience and self-awareness.
I cook, I clean,
I give my sweaty time away
And collect you.
I don’t remember the mornings
With the sun rising and the coffee brewing.
I start with thoughts of future
And a path of pitfalls
To elegantly avoid
And dress accordingly.
Now you can see me
And include me in your plans
Of succulent dinners and unreachable offices.
I will embrace your plan,
Obscure and personal,
Until we stand on a higher rock
And I will see what the horizon holds.
I will fall asleep like a cat today
At The repetitive sound
Your hand produces on the keyboard.
You are absorbed and isolated
Into the virtual world
Of the blue light
Of data and algorithms
And my efforts are childish
When passion is addiction.
You are looking somewhere different
In the picture where all are proud.
Tired of belonging to the crowd,
You found your focus,
Far and not so well defined.
With Each step you take
it becomes sharper and maybe closer,
Almost tangible.
The instinct never lies
And lime a radar spots the dangers
For you
Even when hidden under the surface.
Listen and draw the map
To avoid the traps
Like a champion of alpine slalom.
Few days are left
To tell the story of the little protein
That from an egg ended up in the pharmacy
And into my throat.
Small miracle of evolution, I admire you
And love you
For your stubbornness and generosity.
Carrots dance on the window sill
Watching my spaghetti getting dressed
For the party.
I touch and feel
The richness and roughness of the pasta
That brings sun into my home.