Pond of Poetry

Poems by a twenty-something writer from Denmark, living in the UK.

[pondofpoetry]

People read the news  and think they know  what the world is like but  all they know is  what they’ve read and  they think they are immune to lies and tainted stories but really they are  just consumers of words written  by a single individual with  unknown intentions. 

[pondofpoetry]

Locked Inside

The neighbour plays a crooked tune  on his guitar but  I never heard him play before  we all got locked inside.

I don’t know where time  begins or ends,  a loop of loops and  looney lonely me and you we speak more often  but  all we discuss is tragedy. 

We wait and say we miss  the past  but the past is the future and  forward we don’t look.

The neighbour hosts a dinner party and I didn’t even know that they were Italian before we all got locked inside. 

[pondofpoetry]

I think I love him too much  because I can picture to solely  be at one with only his touch.  His wandering hands holy,  and when he does smile my chest lightens,  his endless eyes fixate slowly, 

on my lips when he tightens  his grip round my neck and exhales;  resolution signals brighten.  My independence is frail, and smiles triggered just by his presence from where I left: There is no trail. 

[pondofpoetry]

Old Friend

I don’t know how  the days passed by  and now I never see you. How life did change  and age did I  of that I guarantee you. 

I know that life  revealed to you your other half to hold. I hope that we  will reconnect  before we both grow old.

But if we don’t, I won’t regret the memories we made. And I will always fondly think  of us in second grade.

[pondofpoetry]

Digital Relations

Those who believe that couple photos  show way too much commitment  really aren’t ready for  a full relation. And those who ignore your messages  but always claim to miss you:  You may need to question  the mere foundation. 

And finally question those who write  “Let us meet up very soon”, 

You are no closer to them

than you are to the moon. 

[pondofpoetry]

What Adults Fear

A child with eyes as pure as light sat on his mothers lap and looked her in the eye;  inquisitive, the little chap.  “Mum what do adults fear the most?  What scares them most of all?”  She stroked his curls and held his hand;  compared to hers, so small.  “Do they as us fear dinosaurs  and monster claws and sharks? And slimy snakes that slither round and what hides in the dark.”

His mother sighed with saddened eyes: “You’ll laugh at me my dear.  It is invisible in fact, what adults truly fear.”  

[pondofpoetry]

Inoculation

Once chaperoned by on the rocks  and wine that made me slur,  lips leapt away without delay;  my mind did not concur. 

But minds can blind what hearts have signed. Inoculate: Immune. We’ll never see the butterfly,  destroying the cocoon.

[pondofpoetry]

Our Memories

We used to keep our memories for our hidden, quiet hearts. But then when Kodak came around we all mastered the art; our memories were shared with  snoring grandmas, waving friends; our memories became what could be captured by a lens. We now distribute memories for the sake of those online;  and perhaps, saddest of all,  neglect the memories for our minds.

[pondofpoetry]

I have forgotten how to breathe - my body now on manual, instead of automatic.

Anxiety

[pondofpoetry]

High School Hallway

“I think she’s quite snobby they said in the lobby, “just look how she walks  with her head held so high”.

“I just don’t quite see it she’s not even that fit,” they argued quite loudly as she walked right by.

“Oh wow, did you see that? Her ass its just all fat, so why do guys say that she must squat a lot?”

“She must be a bitch too because she ignores you whenever you tell her she’s never been hot.” 

“I know right? How dare she, She must wish she was me, because we all know I am better than her.”

And while they debated about those they hated to those who walked by them their voices transferred.

“Did you hear them talking when by we were walking?” said one girl and wondered who they spoke about.

Her bright smile they did see and then they did agree, “That girl looked so fake and her smile was a pout!”

[pondofpoetry]

Clean Laundry

Forgot my clothes in the washing machine, as I left for my job in the office canteen, where I crucially pour the executive tea; which currently pays for my science degree.

Forgot my clothes in the washing machine, as I threw back my daily dose of caffeine. I rushed out the door in yesterday’s wear not finding my keys, just grabbing the spare.

Forgot my clothes in the washing machine. By now it had almost become my routine, to abandon it there for consecutive days whilst failing my coursework (you can’t paraphrase?)

Forgot my clothes in the washing machine, as I smoothly regressed towards the mean, but whilst I prepared the canteen for its close, it occurred to me then: I forgot my clothes!

I flashed home to empty my washing machine, but came home to find clothes no longer clean. Mildew and mould had an odd-flavoured scent so I left them again and to work I went.

[pondofpoetry]

I lost myself in a bowl of cereal that weighed too much on the kitchen scale.

[pondofpoetry]

How We Are

They ask us how we are but we are not allowed to tell the truth. They ask us how we are  but they just want to hear “I’m good" so they can continue the prolog that begins their monologue. They ask us how we are  but we are not allowed to be vulnerable,  those words are non-refundable and because it makes them “uncomfortable”.  They ask us how we are  but really they ask  “May I continue talking?”  or whilst they’re walking past too fast to hear the answer; instead of really caring  or contemplating sharing a worry of their own.  They ask if we’re okay, but do not want to hear if we are not, so we go along with the lie, just say we’re fine, and drink some wine. They ask us how we are, not how we got our scars;

and we accept the status quo because we know that they don’t want to hear it.

[pondofpoetry]

We speak best without words and use a million words without saying a thing.

[pondofpoetry]

Years of Corruption

You never called me yours so why do I miss you like we spent our whole lives together? We haven't talked in years so why do I miss you like we said goodbye just yesterday? You never broke up so why does it hurt like you broke my heart laughing? You never said I love you so why does it feel like you said it a thousand times and took it back?

[pondofpoetry]

I loved you half heartedly. Half my heart obsessedly, possessively in love; the other frantically screaming I should let you go.

[pondofpoetry]

I like being abroad because it’s the only time people clearly see how foreign I am to the world.