i could grow fond of many things
but how particular my fondness of you
how fervent, how violent, how gentle
i think we’re just moths
riding on the backs of giants
and i wasn’t drawn to you
because our wings are both blue
but because they’re the same colour
as everyone else’s
and you were willing to listen to
why that scared me
i don’t know what living a balanced life feels like
when i am sad
i don’t cry, i pour
when i am happy
i don’t smile, i beam
when i am angry
i don’t yell, i burn
the good thing about
feeling in extremes
is when i love
i give them wings
that isn’t such a good thing
cause they always
tend to leave and
you should see me
when my heart is broken
i don’t grieve,
to share my whole self with her, my face when i am sad, my shaky hands when i’m anxious, my happiest memories and my quiet places, my favourite mug, my hoodies and my hair ties, perfume and postcards, my toothpaste and towels, playlists, pillows, cat videos, childhood films, my favourite books, angry poems i wrote at 1am, the way i take my tea, blankets and most of all, my time, my dreams, my future, my name
I have a question for you all. What’s your favourite poem, and what’s your favourite line from that poem? If your favourite line of poetry is from a different poem, tell me that as well!
You’ve all been such absolute bbs lately and I have an idea for some COOL POETRY FUN that I want to do for you all as a little lexical thank you!
My favourite poem is probably Fragment 4 of Sappho:
I simply want to be dead.
Weeping she left me.
with many tears and said this:
Oh how badly things have turned out for us.
Sappho, I swear, against my will I leave you.
And I answered her:
Rejoice, go and
remember me. For you know how we cherished you.
But if not, I want
to remind you
]and beautiful times we had.
For many crowns of violets
[…] at my side you put on
and many woven garlands
made of flowers
around your soft throat.
And with sweet oil
you anointed yourself
and on a soft bed
you would let loose your longing
(tr. Anne Carson)
but my favourite line of poetry is ‘Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun’, from Funeral Blues by WH Auden. It just absolutely encapsulates the dull ache of grief for me. I remember when my grandad died. I was 18, and the pervading emotion for the first few weeks wasn’t really sadness, but emptiness. It was an experience more than a feeling, like living on a different plane from everyone else, walking through the world and wondering ‘why hasn’t everybody stopped? Don’t they know that the world has ended?’ and feeling absolutely isolated and numb. So, that’s my favourite line. Cheery.
The problem is
I don’t know how to look into your eyes and not fall deeper in love with you.
When you laugh I think I forget how to breath.
I’m trying to love you from a distance,
From afar in the quietest way I know how.
I have notebooks completely filled with you.
I don’t think I’ll ever run out of poems to write about you because you’re my favourite piece of artwork.
I’m trying to be less.
Trying to be quieter and not suffocate you with my love
and I just hope that one day I can look into those blue eyes and still be able to breath
I hope that one day I can love you for real and not just in the pages of my notebooks.
I hope that one day I can put my hand in yours and smile knowing that all the pain you caused me was worth it.
To me, you are the brightest star in the sky and I hope that one day you will see that I shine only for you.