Trees watch those who feel midnight on their wings silhouetted against dust and perilous dreams- walking through drearily sweeping loneliness. Moonbeams purple in windows and eyes, sweet lilac wonder sings above the sky. Hands bottle every dusty pleasure, forgotten timeless souls, imagination running wild, butterflies settle caught in their mind.Read More
an utterance is the heart’s way of shouting
but it does not rupture the enigma of a liminal space,
I am not waiting on the brink of a question, I am only
listening to a smooth swell of musical crescendo
As murmurs become a gentle nudge to fall out of almost-asleep
and into a dream that fills the night silence, not
with noise, but an explosion of colours
and stories we would never think to tell,
infused with (only-imagined) sounds.
I walk through a dream (or maybe they’re memories)
Only to find hidden bodies, bedraggled leftovers,
Severed heads with brains extracted, skins shed and discarded,
They all wear the same face that haunts my reflection.
I watch them closely, the night people,
There’s not much else to see as the world is asleep.
They are remarkably awake for the non nocturnal,
Maybe they’re nocturnal at heart.
I watch them as they dance
And as they speak with such a tenderness
As if their words will be remembered…
And they will.
I feared in cutting my hair I would
Cut away my ability to twirl the locks
Around my finger and in turn
Be left with a loss of femininity.
But femininity isn’t found
In my wearing of a dress nor is it
Erased by boots and leather jackets.
It isn’t seen but expressed with a soft
Caress of his neck or a hand through his hair
And flushed cheeks in the sun.
Sweet smiles and a head held high.
Femininity is the delicacy of a flower
And the power of a diamond
That will never break and
It’s pretty because it sparkles
Not because it’s rare.
Names always seemed to sound strange to say
Maybe I was just afraid of them meaning too much,
But I just want to say yours over
And over and over, I want to savour it,
I just want to feel it roll off my tongue.
And my name sounds like a song when you say it
Or should I say sing?
I could listen to you speak for an eternity
Your words filled with life and love
And light, your face ignites with the brightness
Of your smile and your eyes,
I never want to stop looking at you.
You inspire me.
You inspire me to grow.
Music holds more memories than we remember
A melody is nostalgia and a photo album of sounds
I remember my life through the lyrics that touched me and
The songs connected to people
And days and nights
Some sounds touch the heart
And remind me of feelings I can feel I once felt
But don’t remember
Put simply, this is a personal essay about how I became the writer I am today. I revisit some of the poems that kickstarted my journey as a writer and more specifically, a poet, and how I discovered my love for poetry. I take a look at some of the obstacles I overcame to get to where I am, and how I came to welcome my identity as a writer. Basically, it’s going to be a bit of a long one, so buckle up!
Writing is such a big part of me, so much so that I’m just not me when I’m not writing.Read More
Journal Entry | 18/12/18
A reflection on the past year and the lessons I’ve learned.
Maybe I’m a drifter
I’ve seen so many drift
I let them