More than the sum
I am not magic.
My blurred vision, dark circles, and belly shelf
all tell of my misuse of my body.
My thoughts gurgling out like a swollen creek
cresting after a storm show my selfishness.
My dusty floors, craft projects in flux,
and spider webs reveal my housekeeping.
I am magic with you, however.
Our wanting natures meet and make a whole.
There is no mess or noise or dullness
when we are together.
The world is large outside and small for us
with just what we need at our fingertips.
I haven't done a spoken word in ages, so please bear that in mind. I think it sounds more like talking to me over the phone than an actual recital. Also, I don't speak English every day anymore — warning: more rustiness — AND to top it off, it's hottt t t .
Slightly unhinged.
— end disclaimer.
The poems I used are under the cut!
To the original writers, I really hope you like this little audio file. I know I didn't ask you for permission but I wanted it to be a surprise :)
@aubriestar
a peach of a day
it dawned golden halos illuminated with may vibes
the peach tree shimmered
an orange glow distilled from nectar within, released with a bite
juice of sun grown sweetness and a flavor bomb of pure peachyness
i lead you to it, a treasure shared how can such a simple thing overwhelm the senses
kiss me and taste it
a feeling of saturation of unadulterated flavor, of belief that love can still grow in an arid climate and i just have to reach for it, bending the boughs
peaches rescue us
.
@sanddollarpoems
Untitled
I stay silent here
Rolling in this holding pattern
Not allowing the hope
That you'll see me though it all
I keep throwing wishes
Over the wall into your garden
I wish you happiness
I wish your dreams come true
I stay here quietly
Not knowing how to break your fall
But I'll keep smiling back
Till you see me through it all
.
@fille--de--joies (sorry I butchered your username xD! My French isn't what it used to be)
Flowers on my bosom
Flowers on my bosom
Who can unseed what one's sown?
who can unsee what one saw?
Late spring sultriness ripens
incandescent bodies
made for coalescence, not orbitation —
inevitable irreversibility;
who can run from one's lot?
gulp down one's own blossoms?
Reaping the ingrown satiation
of smothered thirsts,
lessons of pain spelling
for an illiterate heart,
mind fasting for wise viscera.
How florescent of you
to never come to fruition.
.
@wordrummager
blame it on gravity
I miss the way my body turned
lightly, with care at the ballet
now I am a hippo in the muck
I remember stepping through gardens
in France feeling like a sprite
never a lady
I wonder what I would have been
with more encouragement
and less imagination
is it ok that I don’t like opera
but love stories with resolutions
and poems without sense
I hope I don’t get tired of flowers
or rivers or stars or clouds
because that’s where I see hope
.
My poem:
Facadeless
This boredom by repetition
Exposes only a lack of wonder, amazement,
And curiosity. A sense of failure
I am unwilling to deepen / signify
Alive.
Superficially, I want to be
More human.
Which is an odd thing to think. As if I am
Less human today. Still,
This skin feels too grimy;
Layered with something the water doesn't
Quite rinse.
I wish I could wear a dream,
If that makes sense (it probably doesn't);
Something that could thrive
On the idea of touch, alone,
And doesn't have to be real.
Like The Emperor's Clothes:
A cloak
That conceals nothing,
And so let's me vanish
When I am
Solely this emptiness,
Experienced
Within.
there aren’t enough chairs
but I’m all alone with 9 seats around me
the table is beat up and beautiful
as the sunset glances at it sideways
the killdeer are in the marigolds
waiting for tomorrow’s mail
the wind picks up always unexpectedly
carrying and depositing magic willy-nilly
the bed is half made as I want to be ready
to be wrapped in the quilt, often
there are so many lights I’m not using
because the moon is enough
what’ll we do
what do you wanna do
I think over and over
and there is no response
but for some vultures, waiting
what happens when you lose
sight of whatever dreams you had
and each today is interchangeable
it’s a funny thing to feel at home
in skin that lets you down
attached to a wandering mind
going nowhere
I want to gulp the world and chase it
with something time can’t define
like a interstellar thunderstorm
blame it on gravity
I miss the way my body turned
lightly, with care at the ballet
now I am a hippo in the muck
I remember stepping through gardens
in France feeling like a sprite
never a lady
I wonder what I would have been
with more encouragement
and less imagination
is it ok that I don’t like opera
but love stories with resolutions
and poems without sense
I hope I don’t get tired of flowers
or rivers or stars or clouds
because that’s where I see hope
the rock n roll riff
from the ‘80s
that made me tap my foot
was incongruous
with the uphill battle
that feels bleak inside
and never-ending
like the memories of old storms
and let’s not talk about the rainbow
in the wrong place
pain prevails even when
the sky is beautiful
it’s so hard to get moving
on mornings full of promise
why is it I still feel the ache of loss
with a big unknown looming
when an afternoon drags
across a whole week
with daydreams
dropped like old piano keys
without a sound
but a beautiful memory
of order in chaos
we track progress
like flight over an ocean
and hope nothing falls
Cloth and the shape of home
The tablecloth isn’t the grail.
Just a favorite thing to give away,
as if making a home for 30 years is easy.
How do I blithely give away history?
What do I do when I visit for dinner
besides try not to stare at the homespun?
How do you switch from being a melody
to background music?
When they ask my opinion, do my kids
really want to know or do they already know
since they’re in the wise 20’s
and I’m somehow regressing and know little…
I have no model for this.
I know how to let go lots of things but not
how to let go and hold on at the same time. I’ve barely held myself together.
The tablecloth isn’t love or home
though it feels like home when I see it.
I had no model for that either but made one
and now so will my daughter.
I see the broken bits
and have ideas how to fix them
but no gumption to move
there are things growing
in the mirror
that make me lose heart
when it’s almost Tuesday
and the thought of facing the door
is terrifying on either side
the dream is sitting there
right in front of me
but it’s night and there’s no moon
@definegodliness tagged me to post my favorite movies- I love this! Thank you!
.
“Jaws” - Saw it in the theatre when it came out; I was 4 years old. Scared the shit out of me.
“The Thing” - I cannot turn away from this movie when it pops up. It has a hold on me. Something with the tundra and Kurt Russell does it for me.
“Sherlock Holmes”- I love many versions of this but the 2009 version with Robert Downey Junior is one of the best.
“Rear Window” - A perfect movie. Possible my #1.
“Lord of the Rings” - Cheating and bundling the three together (as in the original text). Love the scope and story and execution.
“All the President’s Men” - A well done snapshot of a time in history that still echoes today.
“Master and Commander” - Russell Crowe is one of the best actors and I love the play of war and ecology and high seas.
“The ‘Burbs” - Tom Hanks is like a sainted actor in the US and this is not his best work but it’s a movie I for some reason have memorized and rewatch with my family every year. Silly and cute and underrated.
“His Girl Friday” - I adore the rapid fire dialogue and Cary Grant’s dimpled chin.
“Pride and Prejudice” (2005)- I have to say I have a crush on Donald Sutherland and he is delightful here.
.
Runners up- because I may love movies more than books, if I am honest: Goodfellas, Gladiator, Aviator, Raiders of the Lost Ark, Top Hat, Tombstone, Fargo, Evil Under the Sun, Beauty and the Beast (1991), Hunt for Red October
*By all means, please share your favorites as well! This is so fun!
