Day 26 — stream of consciousness poem

I wrote this (well the first draft of it) dictating it into my phone as I lay in bed about 3am this morning, unable to sleep. I was just trying to record some ideas that have been roiling round in me for much of the past fortnight (possibly longer). Sure, I’ll be glad when April is over, but I gotta say it’s been hella good therapy. 

When I looked at it again around 7am, I realised it made a dreamy kind of poetic sense so instead of ripping phrases out & assembling them, I thought I’d try a different poetic technique & go with the flow. This consisted mainly of tidying up the times I had to repeat myself cos it didn’t understand what I was saying & deciphering some of the VRS’s quirkier interpretations. Adding a phrase or two here & there, but really very little.

When I read it again at 11pm in preparation to post it, I cried. (But then I always have been a bit of a sook!)

*****

dream of consciousness

we spoke with such softness and hope … of a life we might live together … we felt like everything was coming together the way it was meant … the way it should’ve done years ago … years and years ago … where all those missed opportunities finally reached fruition … like flowers being born … after long years in dry ground … waiting for the rains … of being fully awake … fully alive … at last … we discussed living together … we discussed weddings … we discussed babies … we discussed beliefs … talk of souls and eternities … re-discussed lives together … loves together … lives passed … lives present … we really did wonder if we’d known each other before … been together before … as if some web connected us through time … and space … the dark matter mattered … and for a few months it felt like everything we did … tapped into that magic stream … we appreciated everything … it was all wondrous and wonder full … the connection … the constant need to be in contact … the thousands and thousands of text messages … over 7000 last time you counted … sure about 6500 were from me to you … but still … along with hundreds of photos and videos … little snippets of where we were … what we were doing … random thoughts … random things … tiny silly things … things that made us smile … made us happy … things we thought we’d do together one-day … road trips that we go on … places we’d visit … things we’d write … plays we’d be remembered for … play time 

the hardest thing is … you took away the fear in my heart … filled it with joy and laughter and hope … and now going back to what it was … is worse than it never filling in the first place … but I think I get it … seems now you only were ever half-present half-engaged half-involved half-accepting half-believing half-wanting … half of where I was … I know that’s a lot of halves

you say you don’t believe in fairytales … that life isn’t a fairytale … but it could’ve been … and more … could’ve been better than that … we had all the ingredients … we had the potential the promise the prospect … the energy of fire … the connection (again with that word) … the buzz … the celestial bees buzzed right through us … through me anyhow … when I’m brave enough … to look back through some of the photos … or god forbid … read some of the messages … we sent to each other … I still can’t understand why … why you didn’t want this

why … you didn’t at least want to try

Day 15 —  Day 1 of the Festival of Grief

My two wallowversaries are quite close together this year — Good Friday & Easter Sunday. GF being Day 1 of the Festival of Grief, ES Day 2. Each year I don’t know whether I’ll write about my grief on the date it happened or the day. Some years it’s both. The interesting thing about choosing a theme for the month is it makes me approach topics I’ve written about countless times with fresh eyes. Such as this …

to pin a wish

my only-ever astral child 
my first star girl
my free spirit
my whispered wish

only briefly tethered 
postmarked but never delivered 
addressed but never sent
never faded 
never dimmed
always present
in my heart 

would’ve loved you 
with my whole soul
every ether of being
guided you from child 
to woman as best i

cradled you
comforted you
held eggshell close
gifted free range
love love loved 

walked you down 
any aisle — assuming 
i could see given 
my eyes are waterfalls 
simply imagining 
such moments

the first wish i’d make
if any benevolent genie
ever give me a chance

my beautiful wondrous 
astral-only child 
my heart was torn away 
the day you ran red
down your mother’s legs

(Hour 16) 1.30-2.30pm — #1 “Kelly’s eye”

A slightly post-modern, self-referential metafictional style poem — which, when I was doing my preparations, I thought I’d be excited to see the #1 come up, but when it arrived, I was like “Oh no, I have no energy for all that”.  But it was actually fairly easy flowing. I kinda like the end product (good jumping off point for revision hopefully) … & it uses every call I found about number 1 — including a very modern one. So pretty chuffed. Plus if I upload it quickly, I’ll get 20 minutes off.

#01

i am the B1 baby
first on the board
at the beginning
of all time
i am little Jimmy
who sees with Kelly’s eye

lack of sleep means
i don’t always make sense
but when i do
Nelson’s column
i am the son of a gun
top of the pops
number ace
Bernie’s formula
means i win the race

now if only someone would
make me a number three
& maybe butter a scone
but i’d better not lie down
or my marathon will be gone

Bingo_card_-_B&W

More 5’s — #25