Pages

Sunday, 28 July 2013

Poem: Dreams awake




in the back seat of our parents car
we made up dreams as kids
roll down your windows
see the land fall beneath you
as if on a feather you ride

hundreds of colourful balloons
each carrying a piece of your innocent wishes
taking you on this rollercoaster ride
do you remember how things felt
seeing them for the very first time?

and how parents kept
the lastness of things a secret
had to learn on our own
with each passing place
we found ourselves at another crossroad

before too long it's you who takes the wheel
a lone rider with anywhere to go
chasing god where starlight kisses the sky
where sunlight touches the horizon
only the shadow of a tree marks the passing of time

balloons burst, one by one
those innocent wishes making you smile as they rain
when you find yourself at the crossroads in the night
you realize as long as you keep dreams awake
you won’t fall down

with keeping your promises you make your turn
doesn’t seem like the first or the last time

*
This was written as a prompt by the mag: link. 
I usually give up quickly on prompts, but this one kept going...

Friday, 26 July 2013

Blog: Ghost town






As I sit here with Ollie sleeping on my lap, listening to Trespassers William, scribbling down words on these pieces of paper, I feel as if with all the poetry I wrote, I've created a ghost town. Although lately I've received some feedback from fellow poets, for which I'm grateful. For now, these are strangers in my life, but I can't talk about this »ghost town« with the people who are in my life. And maybe for that reason it seems like a ghost town, 'cause nobody lives there, and it seems less real. I wonder how readers know me through these poems. How much of me and of my life is in them anyway? And it seems strange that someone I might never meet, may know my thoughts well, while my friends won't?



I love summer evenings. I love the warmth and glow of summer sunsets. I love how it can get chilly in the night and how mind seems to work differently. The things I write in summer are different, probably because the mind seems to stop thinking, fed up with the heat. I love to travel in the summer, drive on the sunny roads, or just sit with someone and talk, have a beer or two... waste the night away. Oh well, those days are scarce.

There are a few songs which are typical summer songs for me, and can sum up plenty of my feelings:

 "You are a little mystery to me
Every time you come around
We talk about it all night long
We define our moral ground
But when I crawl into your arms 
Everything comes tumbling down"



 

"What is love, but whatever 
My heart needs around"



Sometimes we comfort ourselves by saying everything happens for a reason. And if that is the case, I'd like to know those reasons at the start... It'd be much easier to go through it all, knowing them. But things happen one after another. And July isn't my lucky month... Last July my left knee got a diagnosis of a suspected medial meniscus tear, and this July my right knee got the same one. And all I know is... I've had knee pains on and off for one year and a half. And symptoms in the right one are getting worse just as they did on the left one. And then I start worrying...but I'm so damn lucky to be alive and not have any major health problems.

I've been reading Paper towns by John Green and I've watched all episodes of Downton Abbey I could find, I'm so hooked...

 as was Ollie. I guess in some way, at some point in our lives, we run away from things, we avoid them, take comfort in different things...right now, I just want to drive away, feel somewhat free and alive.
*

Saturday, 13 July 2013

Poem: Mechanism of war




the things you've said are written on pieces of paper
clipped on the wire like washed laundry
somewhat heavy and somewhat fresh
they seem like ghost letters pleading to stay
                - the way they flutter in the wind
when we sit in silence about the truth
our lives are long car rides into the unknown
our dashboards collecting scent of our days and nights
there it all lies, life in its’ splendour

among billions, my life is just a whisper
but will it ever carry its' own voice?
for I am a writer without a name on the run
if every road leads from birth till death, what's more important,
- the ride or the road?
convinced myself believing my greatest pain
was being misunderstood; in truth,
it was never being heard at all
if we exchange our keys will our hearts finally be quiet?

sometimes we fear where others will lead us to
the walls we build are not high enough
people will climb them or break them down
in the end it only matters what will make better memories
- those you once loved
do they hold a tombstone in your heart
or are they like butterflies who ease your breath?
living is a war, where you recognize what's important and what not
and if it doesn't change us, what's the point of living?

*

Friday, 5 July 2013

Blog: Loneliness




The feeling of being alone in a room full of people is very familiar to me. And it's such a waste of our time and space, that among billions we suffer from loneliness. 

»Even without indulging in unwholesome behaviours, Dr. Cacioppo and others have shown that loneliness can impair health by raising levels of stress hormones and increasing inflammation. The damage can be widespread, affecting every bodily system and brain function.« - Source

And I know a lot of lonely people, the ones who would need that special someone. A relationship that would have a strong emotional bond. The lethality of loneliness – and how it can ravage our body and brain – was an interesting read.

»what’s most momentous about the new biology of loneliness is that it offers concrete proof, obtained through the best empirical means, that the poets and bluesmen and movie directors who for centuries have deplored the ravages of lonesomeness on both body and soul were right all along.«


»A key part of feeling lonely is feeling rejected, and that, it turns out, is the most damaging part.«


»And yet loneliness is made as well as given, and at a very early age. Deprive us of the attention of a loving, reliable parent, and, if nothing happens to make up for that lack, we’ll tend toward loneliness for the rest of our lives. Not only that, but our loneliness will probably make us moody, self-doubting, angry, pessimistic, shy, and hypersensitive to criticism. Recently, it has become clear that some of these problems reflect how our brains are shaped from our first moments of life.«

They say that the key part of feeling lonely is feeling rejected, but I'd put it a bit differently. I think it's more about not being heard. At least for me (something that probably shows in my poems)... It's more painful not to be heard than being rejected. Maybe with years I started valuing peoples’ company less and less. It’s not that I don’t have any friends, it’s just that I miss being heard. I miss someone to push me further. To evolve. And it can get kind of draining. To have a feeling with some people like it’s you who’s trying too hard, and then you just leave... It’s funny how some people consider you a friend, although they may have not spoken to you in months. Are most of our relationships just acquaintances’? 

*

I mentioned in one of the previous blogs that I’d like to read Calvin and Hobbes. It just so happens that I saw “It’s a magical world” in a bookstore and I bought it. Here are a few parts from it:





 
*
Best way to deal with loneliness is through animals, at least that’s what I believe (I fear when I’m old I’ll be the lady with the cats). Last night I received a kitten and after weeks of chaos, I feel peaceful. I’ve never met such a gentle, affectionate and peacefully kitten. He’s just like me, only cuter. He liked the name Ollie, so that’s what I call him now. Previous kittens I’ve met where more aggressive, they scratched a lot... but he’s such a delicate soul, when he plays with his claws it’s like someone taking a feather over your skin. 


It also surprised me how much he loves company, he has to be around people. I had lunch with him on my lap and he didn’t even try to eat my food (well, maybe it wasn’t all that delicious to him) or jump onto my plate. I do hope he stays the same. It’s very comforting to have him around. It’s like those people whose existence is enough for you to smile. It’s that person who knows what to say to fill the hole in your heart. It’s the best antidepressant drug.