I'm not sure if anyone still visits this blog, but hello. I can't believe it's been so long since I came on here - I honestly don't know what happened. I think I got caught up in the craziness of life and just kind of, forgot. I know that sounds terrible. I also haven't written one piece of poetic writing since my last poem I posted here. Uni is always so busy and stressful, and in a cruel way it sucks the creativity out of me. And I don't know what to write about. It's sad really. Unfortunately I wasn't able to take any writing subjects this semester, so it's just been journalism-based and it's, well, dry! I also apologise if I worried anyone. I didn't mean for it at all.
Well, now that I've remembered how I used to write, how beautiful and kind you readers are, I am going to try to start it up again.
I know it's not much, but here are two snippets of something I wrote down in my notebook one day.
I wait for the sound of your footsteps, but they become quieter and quieter, until I can hardly hear you at all aside from your socks softly brushing against the dark brown wood sometimes...
...Soft light trickles through our translucent curtain and your pale cheeks light up and become golden, but I lay in the dark, the sun just missing me. You look at me briefly and simply turn around, back into the dark, like me.
I hope everyone is truly well. x
Thursday, May 10
Monday, November 21
Last Breath
I often wonder what your last
thoughts were as you
lay in that stiff and sterile
hospital bed, the poisonous
cancer rushing through your blood
finishing to feast on the last
alive cells—
turning them black
and rotted like the rest.
thoughts were as you
lay in that stiff and sterile
hospital bed, the poisonous
cancer rushing through your blood
finishing to feast on the last
alive cells—
turning them black
and rotted like the rest.
While you slept your second wife
shaved your stubble because you
couldn't do it yourself anymore.
Or maybe you were too proud—
maybe you let them grow,
your tiny grey, prickly hairs
knowing this would be the last
time they crawled from beneath
your skin to see the daylight.
But they didn’t see the daylight—
they saw that sickly florescent glow.
You smelled that sterilized
hospital smell that tried to mask
the omnipresent ghost
of sickness and death
and it made you want to die
knowing this would be the last
time they crawled from beneath
your skin to see the daylight.
But they didn’t see the daylight—
they saw that sickly florescent glow.
You smelled that sterilized
hospital smell that tried to mask
the omnipresent ghost
of sickness and death
and it made you want to die
then and there. You
wondered if you’d ever see
the light of day again.
wondered if you’d ever see
the light of day again.
When you lived your final
feeble days did you know
they would be your last?
feeble days did you know
they would be your last?
Did you weep? Did you weep
because you knew you would never
feel the sea's precious water
glide past your sunburnt skin,
never feel the warmth
of the sun on your face?
Did you weep because you
could feel each and every
dip and rise of your rib bones
as if you were skinless—
because you could feel
your heart slowing and
slowing at each breath?
Did you weep because you knew
you would never taste Grönkohl again,
never drink your favourite
Schwäbischer whiskey,
never see us again?
Did you weep because we weren't
at your side when you died?
Did you even notice we weren't there?
I wonder if you forgot us. I wept
because we weren't at your side.
I'm sorry.
because you knew you would never
feel the sea's precious water
glide past your sunburnt skin,
never feel the warmth
of the sun on your face?
Did you weep because you
could feel each and every
dip and rise of your rib bones
as if you were skinless—
because you could feel
your heart slowing and
slowing at each breath?
Did you weep because you knew
you would never taste Grönkohl again,
never drink your favourite
Schwäbischer whiskey,
never see us again?
Did you weep because we weren't
at your side when you died?
Did you even notice we weren't there?
I wonder if you forgot us. I wept
because we weren't at your side.
I'm sorry.
I've never seen your grave.
I don't even know if you were buried
or cremated. If you sleep in the earth,
who lies in the ground next to you?
Maybe he forgot to say goodbye too.
I don't even know if you were buried
or cremated. If you sleep in the earth,
who lies in the ground next to you?
Maybe he forgot to say goodbye too.
I'm forgetting what you look like now
but sometimes I look at that photo
of when you first saw me as a baby
and I remember. You lifted me high
and your Bert Reynolds moustache tickled
my tiny belly. Mum says I have your lips.
I wish I could remember everything
that has ever happened in as clear detail
as the moment I lived it. I would remember
a lot of bad things
but I wouldn’t
forget
you.
but sometimes I look at that photo
of when you first saw me as a baby
and I remember. You lifted me high
and your Bert Reynolds moustache tickled
my tiny belly. Mum says I have your lips.
I wish I could remember everything
that has ever happened in as clear detail
as the moment I lived it. I would remember
a lot of bad things
but I wouldn’t
forget
you.
A lengthy poem today about my grandfather's death some years ago. I hope it's not too depressing.
I recently finished uni for the year and now I'm looking forward to relaxing for the summer.
I hope you are all well and thank you for reading my poems. I appreciate your kind words so much. x
photo by Sarah Hermans
Saturday, November 5
Bangkok
You kicked the diaphanous blanket off the bed
as the moth-eaten sheet under you began to dampen
around your perspiring long limbs like a
cube of ice thawing on sizzling cement.
The out-of-date air con spat puffs of patchy
cold air, interrupted by tepid, dusty exhalations
that followed with frustrated groans.
Our burning bodies met as we stood
under the cool drizzle of the shower,
my red cheek resting on your chest for solace.
We wrapped ourselves in thin threads
so the rare breeze could graze our skin
and we left the dingy room with our glowing
hands interlocked, cautious but charged
with a free, independent electricity that
fused our endearment and powered
the hostel’s broken light bulbs.
It took our noses time to tune to the smell
of rancid air and exhaust
and we walked through the jungle
of sweaty people and neon nothings,
our white pretense plummeting
like the street-cooked chicken neck
did to the grimy ground.
Tuk-tuk’s grunted at heavy traffic
weaving in, out through yellow taxis.
Wrinkly faces under straw hats smiled
as they pushed bags of fruit in our faces.
Watermelon drinks soothed our scorching
bodies for mere moments and we laughed
deliriously at our exhaustion.
When darkness finally came and refused
to give us relief to the heat,
we navigated our way back through
the labyrinth to our tiny tumbledown room
and fell asleep to the whirring fan and
as the moth-eaten sheet under you began to dampen
around your perspiring long limbs like a
cube of ice thawing on sizzling cement.
The out-of-date air con spat puffs of patchy
cold air, interrupted by tepid, dusty exhalations
that followed with frustrated groans.
Our burning bodies met as we stood
under the cool drizzle of the shower,
my red cheek resting on your chest for solace.
We wrapped ourselves in thin threads
so the rare breeze could graze our skin
and we left the dingy room with our glowing
hands interlocked, cautious but charged
with a free, independent electricity that
fused our endearment and powered
the hostel’s broken light bulbs.
It took our noses time to tune to the smell
of rancid air and exhaust
and we walked through the jungle
of sweaty people and neon nothings,
our white pretense plummeting
like the street-cooked chicken neck
did to the grimy ground.
Tuk-tuk’s grunted at heavy traffic
weaving in, out through yellow taxis.
Wrinkly faces under straw hats smiled
as they pushed bags of fruit in our faces.
Watermelon drinks soothed our scorching
bodies for mere moments and we laughed
deliriously at our exhaustion.
When darkness finally came and refused
to give us relief to the heat,
we navigated our way back through
the labyrinth to our tiny tumbledown room
and fell asleep to the whirring fan and
dreamt of the iceman.
Hello everyone!
I can't believe it has been so long since I last posted. Since studying poetics at uni this semester, I've learned countless valuable tools, and I've noticed that my writing style has changed quite a lot.
Here is a poem I recently wrote that will be going in my final poetry portfolio next week.
I hope you are all well and I can't wait to read all the writing I've missed out on.
x
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