‘A piece of paper’ – Julia Briggs

A piece of paper

I saw this black piece of paper
And it looked
Kind of lonely,
Like it needed someone
To talk to.

So I started to talk.
I told it about
School and trivial things,
And my need
For someone to talk to,

And in return
It told me about trees
And Autumn
And where it had come from.

The paper looked sad
When it told me about the
Wind in the trees
And the coming of man
Who had felled the tree,
And I felt ashamed.

Then I got angry.
I had problems enough
Without
Guilt.

I tore up the paper.
I tore up myself.

Julia Briggs (1943 - 2007)

From Wikipedia – Julia Ruth Briggs was an academic, literary critic and biographer who wrote about Virginia Woolfchildren’s literature and English Renaissance theatre.

Julia Briggs

I found this poem in an anthology on poetic creation and how such a simple poem engenders thought by taking a simple object as the subject. In this case the irony is that the poem is all about not being able to write.

My immediate thoughts …

What kind of thinking does a simple object invoke?

If a simple object becomes personified does that engender more interest?

How does the colour of the object affect thought?

If a writer is unable to write, is he or she not full filling a role?

When a writer cannot write but should, or feels a must, is guilt the reaction?

When a great effort, or sacrifice, is made in order to produce something for us how do we feel when we fail to use it?

How do we deal with anger when we can’t do what we want to do?

Below is a detailed 10-point analysis using AI to explore these thought-provoking questions in relation to the text of the poem …

1. The Paper as a Mirror of the Self

The “conversation” is not really between a person and paper—it’s internal. The speaker projects onto the paper, then receives something back that feels external but is actually a deeper layer of awareness.

  • The paper first reflects loneliness (“it needed someone to talk to”)
  • Then becomes a listener
  • Then a moral witness (telling the story of the tree)

By the end, the paper is almost indistinguishable from the speaker’s conscience.

👉 This raises: Is creativity just a structured way of talking to oneself?


2. Writing as an Ethical Act

The shift in the poem is striking: from casual chatter → ecological awareness → guilt → anger → destruction.

The paper reminds the speaker:

  • It was a tree
  • It was taken, transformed, sacrificed

So writing is no longer neutral—it carries:

  • environmental cost
  • human intervention
  • transformation of nature into expression

👉 This adds a layer to your question:

When effort or sacrifice produces something for us, how do we feel when we fail to use it?

The poem suggests: we feel complicit.


3. Guilt vs. Avoidance

The emotional pivot is crucial:

“And I felt ashamed.
Then I got angry.”

This is psychologically sharp. The speaker:

  1. Feels guilt
  2. Rejects it (“I had problems enough”)
  3. Converts it into anger
  4. Destroys the source of guilt

👉 A classic defense mechanism:

  • guilt → discomfort → anger → destruction

So the act of tearing the paper is not random—it’s avoidance of responsibility.


4. Creative Block Reframed

Your question about writers who “cannot write but should” fits perfectly.

The poem suggests:

  • The block is not emptiness
  • It may be over-awareness
  • Or even ethical paralysis

The speaker can write—but what emerges is uncomfortable truth.

👉 So perhaps:

  • Writer’s block is sometimes not lack of ideas
  • But resistance to what we know we might uncover

5. Personification as a Moral Trigger

You asked whether personification increases engagement—here it does more than that.

By giving the paper a voice:

  • It becomes harder to ignore
  • It becomes a victim
  • It forces empathy

If the poem simply stated “paper comes from trees,” it wouldn’t land emotionally.

👉 Personification transforms:

  • fact → relationship
  • object → witness
  • material → moral presence

6. The Violence of the Ending

The final line is powerful:

“I tore up the paper.
I tore up myself.”

This equates:

  • destruction of the page
  • destruction of identity

Why?

Because the paper had become:

  • a listener
  • a conscience
  • a creative outlet

Destroying it = rejecting:

  • expression
  • responsibility
  • self-awareness

👉 It suggests: to silence truth, we damage ourselves.


7. The Color “Black”

You noted the color—this is subtle but meaningful.

“Black piece of paper” is unusual (we expect white). It might imply:

  • emptiness inverted
  • something already “marked” or heavy
  • emotional weight from the start

It sets a tone of:

  • melancholy
  • seriousness
  • perhaps even foreboding

8. Simplicity vs. Depth

The poem uses very simple language, almost childlike:

  • short lines
  • everyday vocabulary

Yet it deals with:

  • environmental ethics
  • guilt
  • identity
  • creative struggle

👉 This contrast mirrors the idea that:

profound realisations often arise from ordinary moments


9. The Role of Anger

Your final question is key:

How do we deal with anger when we can’t do what we want to do?

The poem shows one unhealthy path:

  • redirect anger toward something symbolic
  • destroy the medium
  • avoid the underlying issue

But it also implies an alternative (unstated):

  • stay with the discomfort
  • continue the “conversation”

10. A Final Thought

The poem might ultimately be about this tension:

To create is to confront truth.
To avoid truth is to destroy creation.

And the speaker chooses, momentarily, destruction.

The Pebble – Zbigniew Herbert – comments

The Pebble

The pebble
is a perfect creature

equal to itself
mindful of its limits

filled exactly
with a pebbly meaning

with a scent that does not remind one of anything
does not frighten anything away does not arouse desire

its ardour and coldness
are just and full of dignity

I feel a heavy remorse
when I hold it in my hand
and its noble body
is permeated by false warmth

--Pebbles cannot be tamed
to the end they will look at us
with a calm and very clear eye

Zbigniew Herbert (1924 - 1998)

A pebble …
… evolved over many years to become what it is today
… rejoices in the fact that it is
… mindful of its limits and is not pretentious in any way
… it is itself and that is sufficient
… it can’t be converted to something else, it is true to itself
… it does not try to adjust, amend, advise, colour, favour, frighten, desire…
… when others try to alter it … this is false to itself … remorse = feel guilty in trying
… it cannot be tamed, manipulated …

So be yourself who you are … who you are meant to be … and rejoice in that fact. Become like a pebble – well, something to think about from this concrete poem.

From Wikipedia … Zbigniew Herbert was a Polish poetessayistdrama writer and moralist. He is one of the best known and the most translated post-war Polish writers.


Human Life – Matthew Arnold

Human Life

What mortal, when he saw,
Life's voyage done, his heavenly Friend,
Could ever yet dare tell him fearlessly:
"I have kept uninfringed my nature's law ;
The inly-written chart thou gavest me,
To guide me, I have steer'd by to the end"?

Ah! let us make no claim,
On life's incognisable sea,
To too exact a steering of our way;
Let us not fret and fear to miss our aim,
If some fair coast have lured us to make stay,
Or some friend hail'd us to keep company.

Ay! we would each fain drive
At random, and not steer by rule.
Weakness! and worse, weakness bestow'd in vain
Winds from our side the unsuiting consort rive,
We rush by coasts where we had lief remain;
Man cannot, though he would, live chance's fool.

No! as the foaming swath
Of torn-up water, on the main,
Falls heavily away with long-drawn roar
On either side the black deep-furrow'd path
Cut by an onward-labouring vessel's prore,
And never touches the ship-side again;

Even so we leave behind,
As, charter'd by some unknown Powers
We stem across the sea of life by night
The joys which were not for our use design'd;--
The friends to whom we had no natural right,
The homes that were not destined to be ours.

Matthew Arnold (1822 – 1888)

When I first read this poem I was taken with the first stanza and thought about the words and interpreted the text according to my spiritual understanding of life. And gave my own personal meaning to the words inly written chart thou gavest me to be the purpose of my life given to me on the way I should live, in other words a spiritual connection made by the God within linked by Jesus. I must have been thinking about what a friend we have in Jesus. And it would be nice at the end of life to be able to have followed – I have steer’d by to the end.

But Matthew Arnold is articulating his mission in life defined by his gift as a writer. That inward pulse that he identifies as his purpose in life. The journey of life is likened to a ship ploughing through the sea. Life is incognisable; never knowing what we might experience. I remember those Beatle (John Lennon) words – Life is what happens to you when you are making other plans. The sea is quite a challenge depending on the weather.

An interesting word chosen for our journey we stem across the sea at night; implying becoming fruitful. Stem defined in the dictionary as – a  central part of something from which other parts can develop or grow or something that forms a support. So metaphoricaly it is all about finding out how we should blossom. Knowing our individual purpose and responding in order to be more than just a stem.

The last stanza emphasises ownership; in that life is not designed as a me-only event. It has a deeper and wider more purposeful intent. The mystery left unanswered.

As a side comment when John Lennon was asked as a child what he wanted to be he said one word happy. And I do believe that life was designed to be an enjoyable event. So whatever you do enjoy your day!

Matthew Arnold on Wikipedia – Matthew Arnold – Wikipedia

The Bright Field – R. S. Thomas – Analysis

The Bright Field
I have seen the sun break through
to illuminate a small field
for a while, and gone my way
and forgotten it. But that was the
pearl of great price, the one field that had
the treasure in it. I realise now
that I must give all that I have
to possess it. Life is not hurrying
on to a receding future, nor hankering after
an imagined past. It is the turning
aside like Moses to the miracle
of the lit bush, to a brightness
that seemed as transitory as your youth
once, but is the eternity that awaits you.
R. S. Thomas (1913 – 2000)

R. S. Thomas was a Welsh poet and Anglican priest; so, it is not surprising that there are religious references. Moses and the ‘burning bush’ was the spectacular interaction where God defined the plan for Moses to lead the Israelites out of Egypt. So, ‘The Bright Field’ could be considered, metaphorically speaking, that spectacular event in life that defines a personal focus to living.

The poem asks the reader to consider such personal turning points that define purpose. And to stay focus on that purpose, independent of a religious high being part of the equation. And to concentrate on the now; for indeed life is not hurrying on to a receding future, nor hankering after an imagined past.

And the sun breaking through has that latent son religious thought of a spiritual connection whether or not so glaringly stated as in the case of Moses and the burning bush.

It is nice to carry those ‘golden moments’ with us especially if they are of such significance that they define purpose and meaning to life! Especially to remind ourselves when we are overwhelmed by modern day lock-downs and stress; and to continue to follow our dreams regardless.

Enough of the didactic! … here is a special moment from my youth when I had the whole wide world before me (forgive the pun) …

Stopping One Day
I remember one day in June.
The height of summer and the sun
still rising on one of those days
that calls all nature into song.

Biking the back lanes of the Hampshire countryside.
Stopping on a bridge over a stream
the clear sparkling chatter below, while beyond
the fields praising their contentment.

Footnote …

It was one of those startling English summer days in June.  The sun stretching and all nature responded as I cycled down a country lane thinking of my future. I stopped on a narrow bridge over a little stream totally intoxicated with the joy of life.

On Wikipedia – R. S. Thomas – Wikipedia