Naked legs,
incoherent touching
fingers gently groping –
contact,
body heat.
We buried ourselves
in a hole filled with pillows.
Rock-bottom feels a little softer
as the mid-morning sun
illuminates the bags under our eyes.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
11.10.2010
A carpet of leaves;
untying the knots in your spine -
I tell stories with the tips of my fingers.
Winter winds
slip into the intimate places
between wool and naked flesh.
Raw, flushed cheeks,
numb fingertips.
Hands slip into strangers' pockets,
sharing warmth through our palms,
secrets through our skin.
untying the knots in your spine -
I tell stories with the tips of my fingers.
Winter winds
slip into the intimate places
between wool and naked flesh.
Raw, flushed cheeks,
numb fingertips.
Hands slip into strangers' pockets,
sharing warmth through our palms,
secrets through our skin.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
10.5.2010
I have so much old poetry saved on my computer and lately I've been trying to sift through it, see if there's anything I'd like to work on again...get rid of stuff I hate. It's been weird though, because how I write is so reflective of where I am at any given period in my life. It's been hard reading some of it...especially the stuff from my first year at University. Maybe I'll post it on here one day. I like the poems as what they are, it's just that the feeling of them is so far removed from who I am now and what my life is. But we'll see.
This is a pretty early one (before the harder stuff began), I never really gave it a name, and I still can't think of one for it...
Despite your wax paper fingers
your kisses of dust
I long for your touch.
We paint golden shapes
on chipped canvases
in dawn’s chill.
Slow Sundays are my favourite:
The sun an inferno
as we sip honey in the fields.
You’re preoccupied and I’m hungry
for your attention:
trying to fit myself inside your empty hollows,
not knowing that
the ocean
and the mountains
are in there before me.
Their vibrancy leaving no space,
I fall by the wayside.
This is a pretty early one (before the harder stuff began), I never really gave it a name, and I still can't think of one for it...
Despite your wax paper fingers
your kisses of dust
I long for your touch.
We paint golden shapes
on chipped canvases
in dawn’s chill.
Slow Sundays are my favourite:
The sun an inferno
as we sip honey in the fields.
You’re preoccupied and I’m hungry
for your attention:
trying to fit myself inside your empty hollows,
not knowing that
the ocean
and the mountains
are in there before me.
Their vibrancy leaving no space,
I fall by the wayside.
Monday, October 4, 2010
10.4.2010
The days are getting shorter and schoolwork is starting to pile up. I feel as though I've just realized the change in season the past couple of days. I was running through Park Lafontaine on Friday and noticed all of the leaves on the ground, and it really was the first time I actually had stopped and noticed. Going out at night minus a jacket is no longer a possibility, and it's becoming nicer and nicer just to curl up inside with a mug of coffee and your best friends.
I feel like I haven't had enough words lately (unusual for me) to describe exactly how happy I am for the first time in a while. Even my bad days recently haven't felt so bad. Regardless, as the cold weather gets colder and school becomes more stressful, I feel like it's important to remember the little things in life that make you really happy. You don't always realize the importance of the smallest things, and it's good to reflect on them sometimes...at least I think so.
- Getting into a bed made with fresh sheets
- The smell of coffee first thing in the morning
- The little sliver of sun that peeks through the clouds on a gloomy day, exactly when you need it
- Fall layers...scarves and sweaters and boots and comfy.
- Being able to sit in comfortable silence with your best friends
- Developing disposable camera pictures from nights you don't remember (and the street bench screaming that follows)
- Having perfect bus/metro timing luck on your morning commute to school (especially Monday mornings)
- Cute boys sitting next to you in class
- Saturdays spent wandering around the city with pretty girls
- Productive hangover Sundays
- Spontaneous Monday sushi lunch dates
Life is real good.
I feel like I haven't had enough words lately (unusual for me) to describe exactly how happy I am for the first time in a while. Even my bad days recently haven't felt so bad. Regardless, as the cold weather gets colder and school becomes more stressful, I feel like it's important to remember the little things in life that make you really happy. You don't always realize the importance of the smallest things, and it's good to reflect on them sometimes...at least I think so.
- Getting into a bed made with fresh sheets
- The smell of coffee first thing in the morning
- The little sliver of sun that peeks through the clouds on a gloomy day, exactly when you need it
- Fall layers...scarves and sweaters and boots and comfy.
- Being able to sit in comfortable silence with your best friends
- Developing disposable camera pictures from nights you don't remember (and the street bench screaming that follows)
- Having perfect bus/metro timing luck on your morning commute to school (especially Monday mornings)
- Cute boys sitting next to you in class
- Saturdays spent wandering around the city with pretty girls
- Productive hangover Sundays
- Spontaneous Monday sushi lunch dates
Life is real good.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
9.21.2010
Lips press to the insides of elbows.
Legs ripe like an apple,
dotted with bruises.
Red wine conversations,
smiling through purple teeth.
Legs ripe like an apple,
dotted with bruises.
Red wine conversations,
smiling through purple teeth.
Monday, May 10, 2010
5.10.2010
Every morning I open my eyes
and my legs stretch across the room,
waiting for me
to walk them somewhere,
anywhere but where I am.
I pound my feet in to the pavement,
push myself for miles and miles
and end up in the same place,
licking the salt from my skin
and dreaming of wider tomorrows.
I want to cut my roots
with a sharp blade,
un-plant myself
and dig my toes in to the soil
in a place where I can
catch the sea salt on my tongue,
uncurl to my full height,
wear the clouds like a hat.
I’ll run towards the horizon
until the Earth falls out from under my heels,
until the only person who can catch me
is myself.
and my legs stretch across the room,
waiting for me
to walk them somewhere,
anywhere but where I am.
I pound my feet in to the pavement,
push myself for miles and miles
and end up in the same place,
licking the salt from my skin
and dreaming of wider tomorrows.
I want to cut my roots
with a sharp blade,
un-plant myself
and dig my toes in to the soil
in a place where I can
catch the sea salt on my tongue,
uncurl to my full height,
wear the clouds like a hat.
I’ll run towards the horizon
until the Earth falls out from under my heels,
until the only person who can catch me
is myself.
Efterklang - "Cutting Ice To Snow" from Herzliya Films on Vimeo.
5.10.2010
I've been listening to this song on repeat all day. The whole album is great, really, definitely worth checking out.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)