Shannan Mitchener’s debut poetry collection, ‘Meaningless Destruction’, is a bittersweet journey told through intricate metaphor and beautiful imagery. Through the eyes of her narrator, she explores painfully relatable themes such as love, loss, mental health, abuse, empowerment, and the endless pursuit of happiness. Reading her intense observations on what it means to be human will leave you heartbroken but comforted that you are not alone in your experiences.
Shannan reached out to me asking if I would be interested in reviewing her debut poetry collection. I admit, I was never the biggest fan of poetry purely because the only exposure I ever had to the genre was from high school, and not the modern type, by which I was constantly graded to dissect it and glean hidden meanings from it and write essays about it. It was tedious, to be short. Nevertheless I am still open to trying it now that I read as a hobby and not a student.
I thought for some weird reason that I will not be able to understand anything but lo and behold I actually found myself re-reading some poems because it deeply resonated with my past self, but most importantly my present self. Her poems might seem too simply worded but they get the point across. Her book consists of poems about different kinds of life experiences, of the different times when everyone or everything seemed to be against you. She talks about love, heartbreaks and abusive relationships, of death, loss and ultimately of empowerment. It was an interesting experience trying out this genre for the first time, it made me want to explore other works more.
As I don’t really have any experience/exposure to poetry, my rating is solely based on how the whole book made me feel. Isn’t that what a lot of people look for in their reading? Some things resonated with me, some didn’t, but it’s definitely worth looking at if any of you are interested. I’m going to leave you guys with one of my most favorite poems in the book. Enjoy ❤
the first breath of the morning always feels the fullest. one
deep inhale to brace myself for the day, like steadying yourself
against a brick wall after one too many drinks. my fingers
tingle with pins and needles and my knees stretch taut as I
unroot myself from my indented mattress. sitting up is
reminiscent of a butterfly peeling out of its cocoon; in my sleep
I wrap myself up in a shield of blankets that have to be shed
upon waking. a constant cycle of metamorphosis. every
morning I emerge a butterfly, and every night I go to sleep a
repeat as many times as you can stand.
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Lots of love,