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I used to miss people like you,
people with thoughts in their eyes
and clouds in their words;
used to cling to false hope hung off the longest lashes
like Christmas ornaments on pine boughs.
I used to weave myself into people’s lives
almost accidentally, which is why I was never surprised
when they cut me out.
i am interested in creating a series of fourteen acrostic poems, very much similar to my poem ‘iridescent’ posted two weeks ago which you can read here.
these poems will be posted once a day, a few hours after the daily handwritten series, in a separate format so the difference between the projects is easily depicted.
for this project, i would love to take follower requests of words to use for these poems. if you are interested in requesting a word you would like me to use, please message me with username attached and i will take each suggestion into consideration.
if i choose your suggestion to use as inspiration, i will message you and let you know. i appreciate your input in advance.
edit: submissions are now closed. thank you all so much! i will message you if/when i write a poem with the word you submitted.
“Espero curarme de ti en unos días. Debo dejar de fumarte, de beberte, de pensarte. Es posible. Siguiendo las prescripciones de la moral en turno. Me receto tiempo, abstinencia, soledad. ¿Te parece bien que te quiera nada más una semana? No es mucho, ni es poco, es bastante. En una semana se puede reunir todas las palabras de amor Que se han pronunciado sobre la tierra y Se les puede prender fuego. Te voy a calentar con esa hoguera del amor quemado. Y también el silencio. Porque las mejores palabras de amor Están entre dos gentes que no se dicen nada. Hay que quemar también ese otro lenguaje lateral Y subversivo del que ama. (Tú sabes cómo te digo que te quiero Cuando digo: "qué calor hace", "dame agua", "¿Sabes manejar?", "se hizo de noche" Entre las gentes, a un lado de tus gentes y las mías, Te he dicho "ya es tarde", y tú sabías que decía "te quiero"). Una semana más para reunir todo el amor del tiempo. Para dártelo. Para que hagas con él lo que quieras: Guardarlo, acariciarlo, tirarlo a la basura. No sirve, es cierto. Sólo quiero una semana Para entender las cosas. Porque esto es muy parecido A estar saliendo de un manicomio para entrar a un panteón.”—Espero curarme de ti - Jaime Sabines
I have felt the bough
Of summer break,
The tiny intricate things
Of an atmosphere
Falling away like the lines
Of our memories, fine sketched
Yet fading so quickly.
The fast winds of fall
Have taken the people of
This town into the hearth
Of their warm houses,
Same as they have pulled
The petals off each daisy
And dandelion, their bald heads
Now waving in a season unrelenting,
The browning faces of defeat flags
That sway in front of school houses
And the fancy businesses on main.
The night falls so quickly now
And those most alone amongst us
Are drawn into the light
Of small town bars and corner cafes.
As for myself, I am still rearranging,
The cornerstone idea of some
Inward abstract illumination,
My inspiration so scattered
It is unnamable, so I place myself
Across the page in contrasting colors,
In sequences that lack proper meaning.
I only know how right the lone strokes
Of my own soul feel as they blow
The pages open and into each other.
“I’m letting you pull out all of my weakest links Every last wobbly piece Everything that doesn’t fit inside of me And I’m letting you rebuild it all again Letting you touch me, shape me, mold me with your tranquil hands These are my empty spaces that I’m letting you in But this isn’t a Jenga game If I fall once more I’ll never be the same My resilient heart won’t ever be tame Beyond repair, I’ll surely break Here, these pieces of me are yours to take”—“Ever Since We We’re Children” by Devon Halvorson
the geeelouise series.
i wanted to give you a quick introduction to a new series of poetry i will be posting here. alongside the daily handwritten series, starting tomorrow, a new series will also also begin and be posted daily for the next twenty two days.
i have collaborated with my good friend gina to bring you what we are calling “the geeelouise series” - a poetry set linked with her photography to bring a unique feel and insight to the meanings, syntax, commentary and message behind each of these poems.
gina is a fantastic photographer and good friend of mine from san diego, california. this project is going to be amazing and completely unique as it is a collaboration between two people living on other sides of the world, coming together to find a common meaning in written word and photographic art.
if you have any questions or are curious about anything regarding this project, my message box is always open! in the meantime, i suggest you all follow gina by clicking here to get regular updates on her incredible work.
i look forward to sharing these works with you!
as always, all the best.
Dearest dead friend, I mean what i say:
in our lives thru havoc and hope;
blood and alcohol,
chocolate and cinder,
scars of novels and revolt
you reached out thru the riptide of calamity,
grasped my wrist, and pulled hardest of them all.
My lungs half-full, I am left knowing that
i would have drowned were it not for you.
For we hit stride in the same strokes,
our common current binding, defining,
shaping our bodies, erosion wearing us away,
pulling us further from the shallows in to depths
our mothers never wanted to see us reach.
I remember a shore, once, the safety of coral,
you would read in bed and i would read to you;
when drugs kept us sharp and our bodies kept us warm.
I remember safety, once, knowing you.
No cartographer, no mathematician,
i am pulling out all of my maps:
atlases of scars, my compass, pictures of you,
looking north south east and west,
moving the minutes back and forth on my watch,
looking and looking, looking for you where did you go?
Thru all of my charts, catalogues of the water
we seemed to know so well, so deep,
what ravine, in to what trench? What pulled you down?
Where do you go now? Where do i?
And which is safer -
these calamitous shores
or those calming, seeping depths?
I miss you i miss you i miss you,
when will you be coming home?
You are a ray, a geometric ray:
your beginning is fixed - then,
even thru catastrophe or death,
whether you go on or your breath fails you;
thru the life you take in and take, you are infinite.