Pensividity
Two poems for you this evening. December 25th, 2011.
Big storms in Melbourne tonight, and driving in the rain always makes my brain explode with artsy and pensive thoughts.
So, I love and I hate Christmas. You spend time with family, which is good, but also extremely stressfull. You try and spend time with friends and people you love, but they are all trying to do the same, so innevitably you are all too busy to actually spend time doing the things you actually want to do. People get so wound up in the spirit of things, and things have to go this way or that, it is crazy.
But anyway.
These poems. One I started out with the intention to write, and shaped and thought it through with some sort of structure. The second one just started flowing out my brain and I let it happen.
So here are my troubled thoughts. Imagine them set to pensive guitar music or something.
Big storms in Melbourne tonight, and driving in the rain always makes my brain explode with artsy and pensive thoughts.
So, I love and I hate Christmas. You spend time with family, which is good, but also extremely stressfull. You try and spend time with friends and people you love, but they are all trying to do the same, so innevitably you are all too busy to actually spend time doing the things you actually want to do. People get so wound up in the spirit of things, and things have to go this way or that, it is crazy.
But anyway.
These poems. One I started out with the intention to write, and shaped and thought it through with some sort of structure. The second one just started flowing out my brain and I let it happen.
So here are my troubled thoughts. Imagine them set to pensive guitar music or something.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Christmas is a time of melancholy joy.
Of lonely comradery.
Christmas is a time of broken completeness.
Of overfull empty.
Christmas is a time of buying pricelessness.
Of greedy selflessness.
Christmas is a time to remember a child born to die,
Of hope lost and hope gained.
Christmas is a paradox bound up in Love.
Curious
~~~~~~~~~~
Like a whiteboard
Our hearts are.
Constantly changing
Always rearranging
Our hearts are.
Some people write something simple
Staying only for a while
Before they are erased
From our memory
Some people write in permanent marker
Leaving a constant reminder
Of what they once were
Before we scrub them away.
Some marks we hold on to
Some we wipe away.
Some marks we can't get rid of
Staining our hearts with ugly.
Whiteboards change
A moment in time,
Always the same
But always changing
Our hearts are.
Curious
posted by Curious at
Sunday, December 25, 2011
