Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Mary Oliver wrote 'he is exactly the poem I wanted to write' and it's true, there is no-one else that could be made into a poem as intriguing as him.
If I could write him as a poem, I would start it with one letter, because I think the fact that his nickname is a single letter is fascinating and I think about being called M and hearing the sound of my initial curling from his lips.
If I could write him as a poem, I would put something about us having mutually curly hair and the fact that he has no pictures of himself in his profile pictures and I'd marvel about what that means.
If I could write him as a poem, I would mention that we sat next to each other in a graduation ceremony over a year ago and how I thought his nickname was his actual name and how interesting I thought that was.
If I could write him as a poem, I would write about how he works at the video shop near my house and how he's always so lovely there.
If I could write him as a poem, I'd finish it with Yours, M.

Monday, October 29, 2012

Back to normal

In four days I will be finished Uni for the year and I can post things on here again. Things have been so hectic the past few months so I just can't wait to be free of the work :)

I was afraid to post writing on here because if I then submitted it as part of an assessment, the university assessment submission would say that I plagarised it from myself...and I didn't really feel like explaining to them.

Tuesday, June 5, 2012

Baby photos

Helping dad fix the lawnmower :)

I got really sick when I was little and had to stay in hospital for a while :(

Little monkeys :)

I just love looking at old baby photos, there's nothing like the feeling you get when seeing your younger self looking so happy, and I was a pretty cute little thing I must say haha :)

Yesterday I bought myself roses,
because everyone deserves
to be given flowers
every once in a while
even if
they have to buy them
for themselves.

( I accidently took these motion photos on my phone while trying to take a photo of the roses and write an essay, but I kind of like it :) )

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

If I could have the names tattooed on my skin
of all the people I have ever loved,
whether fiercely or simply
because of a single glance
exchanged across a crowd,
or the brush of fingertips
accidentally exchanged
across a table.
Then maybe when I die
they will look at my body
and say she loved many,
and if the reasons I loved them,
were there as well,
then my entire body
shall be covered with ink -
evidence of love
and being loved,
proof of a life
lived in love
shall be written
all over my skin.

Sunday, April 1, 2012

I will show you fear in a handful of dust.
- T. S. Elliot

Sunday, March 18, 2012

I will love where I am right now.

Friday, February 10, 2012

My parents have been
around me
for the past few days
walking on eggshells
handling me with kid gloves
and all the other cliches I can think of
it's as if I am a tiny bird
they are afraid of crushing
or glass they are afraid of breaking
'How tired are you on a scale of one to ten?'
'Have a good day okay?'
'Be happy.'
Maybe it's working though
because I feel
within myself
and really
that's all I want

Saturday, January 21, 2012

Reading List

I am writing a reading list for this year. Any suggestions on books to read? :)

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

I’d like to hold your hand under the stars
While we rename constellations
And watch shooting stars
Carving their way through the sky
Leaving trails of light
Wondering if we saw them
Two wishes
But I forgot
And which ones are planets?
Do they sparkle?
Or flicker?
'That one looks red.'

‘I’d like to be made out of stars.’
‘You are.’

Monday, January 2, 2012

I want to write about things like orange trees and feathers and that moment of darkness within before you can fall asleep and brown shiny seeds and tangled wire and the hopeful look in a dog's eyes before you close the curtain and lock the door and the shapes of clouds and the way a page sometimes falls out of a book unexpectedly and the way weeds can be beautiful and how sometimes chickens pace and pace and pace even though they won't be let out and how sometimes you find cuts and bruises that weren't there before and you don't know how they got there.