Samurai warriors used go into the woods to compose a haiku before battle.

And suddenly the thousands of rage-fuelled little verses in my phone notes feel much more socially acceptable, bad-ass even.

Poetry as a concept has always felt a bit soft. Too earnest, sweet and middle class for the likes of me to admit to partaking in. So in the spirit of taking any shame out of creative pursuits, a dirty little secret is I write poems. Have done for as long as I can remember.

Very occasionally one becomes public in some way. In a play, or most recently in a counselling presentation. These have been positive sharing experiences. Most often the poems stay in the closet, threatening to out me as completely unhinged if I ever get run over and someone goes through my phone to find the next of kin.

Poetry keeps me mindful, checked in, and able to process small daily battles with lightness. I usually write them on the underground, in freeform, crushed up against other commuters on my way home to east London.

Today though, in tribute to the Samurai warriors, I took to the woods for a brief haiku:

Combination of
Passions which bring aliveness
Can be explored now

What are the hidden creative pursuits which keep you mindful and reduce your stress and anxiety?

Want to use poetry in counselling? Call or message to find out how.