My love was a letter
With no return address,
Sent through the blinds
Of a mellow cloudiness
Fresh wings, kept
afloat by a tangle of
until the top
it is the only place
for a lover to
This poem is a work in progress, but after a kind and earnest reminder, today is National Poetry day so I felt obliged to honour this with a few rhymes and silly musings.
Whilst living on this Earth it has become apparent to me that I have somehow collected a number of peculiar objects that proudly linger amongst my shelves and/or deepest corners of my closed drawers. Here I present a list of just a few of these items!
#1 Failed attempt at ‘wine’
Some will undoubted view this possession as a sheer accomplishment of both a disregard for blackberry juice as well as cleanliness. Yet, residing amongst my most treasured ornaments lies what was -four entire years ago- a refreshing beverage. Now, however, it is a questionable, slightly fluffy, blob at the bottom of a plastic bottle. After four years of hoping it’d turn into something of interest, or at least a sip of wine, I can conclude that nothing extraordinary can be expected from the dregs of a once promising drink. Nevertheless, my sheer attachment to this item has grown so irrevocably over the years that no matter how icky it gets, I cannot seem to part with it!
#2 My leaflet collection
The art of collecting is not, in itself, an exotic nor remotely unusual concept. However, when I was a tiny bit younger (certainly not as young as I would like to admit) I decided that stamps or Beanie Babies just didn’t satisfy my human urges for hoarding. Instead, rather ambitiously, I took to collecting leaflets. Consequently, hidden amongst the depths of the darkest corners of my room, lies a shamefully extravagant box that is filled with not the remnants of what was the height in childhood toys or dolls but, rather, an extravagant array of brochures that probably gave me just as much excitement as those aforementioned toys.
#3 Antique ‘Smarties’
When the devilish tales of artificial colours flocked the news, it wasn’t long before the beloved confectionery ‘Smarties’ fell to this health-conscious pressure and decided to remove its artificial colours. It was 2008 and again, I was very young, and possibly scouting the shops for any new additions to the leaflet stand, when I noticed that there were a number of ‘Smarties’ on the counter that had not yet fallen to the higher food standards and remained as artificial as ever. Thinking I’d stumbled upon a jackpot, I bought a packet believing that they would become an antique within the coming years. What is perhaps most astounding, however, is how I have been able to avoid the temptation to dig into this confectionery for the past 8 years.
Now I’m starting to think that I should convert my room to an out-of-date food and beverage rescue centre where possibly the only thing that needs rescuing is my sanity for I am sure that it is out there somewhere!
Not so long ago a friend and I were out one evening and decided to dance, using this term especially loosely of course, and did so in the darkness of a Winter night beside a river. That same week a body was discovered in this river and this string of events hasn’t left my mind.
Our fingers traipsed
The glistening molecules
That made up a river
Turned by the moonlight
Into a stroke of jewels.
We danced in the darkness,
Felt beneath the sprinkled light
With breaths of cold
And bustle out of sight.
But under the veil of darkness,
Beneath the façade of springs
Laid a girl of no dance.
She lay as still
And as cold as the night
Under the cloak
Which stole her breath
Our ceiling was a
Crowded moonlight sky
But the only backdrop was death
In Summer, many people decide to embrace its corresponding sun by taking a cool, well-deserved dip at the seaside. However, the only dipping I’m doing this season is in the parameters of a sink where the waves are soapy and the seaweed is actually left-over cabbage.
Despite my recent upgrade in obtaining full A-Levels, there is no better place to start the path of careerism than at the bottom and in my case that bottom is a plug hole.
Though it may not be exactly glamorous or requiring much in the way of skills, I feel that I have, nonetheless, acquired a great deal of wisdom during my shifts as a washer-upper and this post will disclose these nuggets.
#1 Whisks are now your mortal enemy
With all those small edges and tight corners, these otherwise essential kitchen tools are a profound nuisance to wash. Needless to say they don’t only succeed in stirring soup and Yorkshire pudding batter but also a great deal of anguish during my soggy duties.
#2 Bubbles become a hair accessory
If you have ever imagined that a certain white foaminess would bring out the colour in your eyes then this is undoubtedly a plus! It is impossible to escape the stray suds so one must learn to embrace this otherwise unique and acquired look.
#3 Wrinkly hands
By the time my shift is over my hands look more like the ruins of a tiny volcanic eruption than actual human limbs. Forget face-lifts, if only my tips could afford a permanent ‘hand-lift’!
So perhaps my hours of labour haven’t exactly left me tremendously enlightened, but it is an experience nonetheless!
Although now a default method of transportation, it took humans seven million years to master just the first stroll. What proved to be an irrevocable step towards evolutionary precision is now, without a doubt, taken for granted especially as a child will be deemed a little dim if he or she has not mastered this skill within only a few years of existing. The art of putting one foot after the other is work of pure genius!
#2 Swallowing Pills
Perhaps it is just me with an aversion to swallowing larger that humanly-preferable items but it took me years to build up the courage to attempt this sorcery. With gag-reflexes on high-alert, this is a tricky one and hence an underrated life skill especially for those whose throats can handle swallowing pills without a second thought.
#3 Applying Eye liner
For those people who decide that covering your face in chemicals with the odd dash of congealed whale fat is not the way to go, applying eye liner is a highly underrated life skill. When I was around eleven I was occasionally referred to as ‘the girl who couldn’t put on eye liner’… although my problem wasn’t that I ‘couldn’t‘ put it on (in fact, saying I’d over do the make-up a little may be discrediting the fact my whole face became a dark shade of black) but it was because it looked like a total mess. The art of applying eye liner, I believe, could be an entire degree… it takes patience, a little creativity and mountains of impossible dexterity.
#4 Eating Broccoli
I have yet to acquire the skill of being able to stomach this green and irritatingly healthy vegetable, and I have great envy for those who can. I’ve been told that it is even possible to reach the level of skill to actually enjoy munching this tiny tree-like cuisine. Wow!
#5 Blinking and Other Reflexes
This is arguably the most underrated life skill as we barely even notice, and therefore never fully appreciate, the reflexes conducted by our bodies which include blinking, breathing and swearing. We’d be pretty stuck if our bodies didn’t decide to take control of these vital functions.
Waking up in a stranger’s bed again
Half under a duvet
Creased from the remnants
Of pseudo love
You don’t remember my name
And don’t care to ask
For fear of shame
But like everything about myself
I had put it away
The moment I wandered your hall
And agreed to stay
With the morning came its light
And I somehow caught your eye
From the other side of the bed
But the passion had
Died as quickly as the night
And no words were said
You’d got what you wanted long
Before my eyes awoke
To those unfamiliar walls
Which I couldn’t now recall
But I’d outstayed my welcome
So I left with the promise
Of a call
I would never get
I walked out the door,
To the open air that wreaked of reality
And I promised my self no more
Will I be caught
Under a duvet
Without a name
But I get home to a text
From another guy
‘What u doing tonight’
‘Not much you?’
‘Fancy a good time?’
And without even a sigh
I’m gone again
One day it will be illegal to discriminate against people with body modifications and I just hope that I am neither a wrinkly old bag nor six feet under when it is.
Whilst shooting metal and ink through the skin may not be everyone’s idea of a fun time; to me, rejecting the job application of a person purely because of their chosen body modifications is as despicable as if it were for the colour of their skin. (Which, in the case of tattoos, is exactly that!)
The main reason this discrimination is so prolific is due to their arguably ‘negative’ associations, and yet, do my eight piercings somehow cancel out my eight A* GCSE qualifications? Does having a stud through my nose mean that I am incapable of serving customers or washing dishes?
This is such an important issue to me because I adore tattoos; they are pieces of art and one of the most beautiful forms of expression. But I know that if I got a tattoo I would be drastically reducing my employability which, as a promising Literature student, isn’t exactly sky-rocketing to begin with!
We should not be continuing to humour those who find body modifications offensive because they are harmless and we are only, in turn, oppressing our freedom.