(no subject)

[kohaku]

dutch_eowyn was surprised to hear that I write. Now, I haven't posted anything in ages, because I haven't written anything (fandom related) in ages.

To be absolutely honest, I'm scared shitless by the talent that many writers have, right here, in this fandom, in lj. I'm amazed by the creativity and versatility. You people are amazing. I read touching stories that really made something stir inside of me, saw beautiful art, be it icons or manips or collages or whatever. I read witty essays, laughed at the silliness of some of you, enjoyed the things you had to share.

But, alas, scared shitless because of it. I pondered about what kaydeefalls wrote in her last entry. Poetry really should be a part of you. A part you want to share. I still fidget everytime I let somebody read it, for different reasons, depending on the poem. Poetry always pulls some private insights into the lime light. So, here are some glimpses of me. Unfiltered. Skip or comment as you like.



Nan

I want to do something drastic
With my hair
Cut it all off, maybe
Shave it.

The shock it would give my mother.

My hands on the scissors
I remember my grandmother
Her silvery threads of hair
Being shorn off at hospital,
Like sheep's wool.

She had been able to sit on hers, but
It never grew back.
Short spikes instead of
Mercury waves accompanied her
In her coffin.

My own short hair grew
Slowly, steadily
Ever since I realised
She could not grow hers anymore.

____________________________

Kelvingrove

"There is a certain affinity between painters and poets; a painting is indeed nothing other than a wordless poem."
~ Mc Lellan Galleries


Three years to refurbish Kelvingrove
Their relocated treasures now at McLellan
I look at wordless poems
Which can say more with just
A paintstroke
Than I can with
Larynx, lips, teeth, tongue
The pen my only hope.

____________________________________

Long Distance

Your voice sounds metallic
There are clicks and clinks in it.
I wonder if you are speaking
Through a can, a pretended phone
Like a child.
The ocean that separates us
Somehow crept into the line.
I can hear the waves breaking and
My love buzzes.
Can you decipher my words?
Longing knows no language.
You do not need to
Reassemble my fractured speech.
I hang up, angry
At the cost and sad
Because your voice didn't sound
like your voice at all.

_____________________________

Lady Edinburgh

Edinburgh itself is not mad
She is patient.
She takes everyone that wants to see her,
Bids them in
Here's the parlour, the lounge is over there
Make yourself comfortable.
And they do.

Tourists never fail to ring her bell
Showing up on her doorstep,
Tired, dirty
Expecting glory of past times now
All wrapped up in tartan, aran wool
and pipes.

And Edinburgh, trying to be a lady,
Does all that.



Posted mainly for dutch_eowyn. I know it's not fandom related. But I thought you might be interested.

Comments

[rodneyscat.livejournal.com]

That's beautiful! No need to be 'scared shitless' at all.

'Nan' is very moving and I found myself wondering if anyone had come up with the idea of collecting your grandmothers hair, and keeping it or, better still, burying them with her. Hair symbolises life and strength in many cultures.

I didn't really get 'Kelvingrove'. But then again, I didn't even get the quote, so it's probably just not something for me.

'Long Distance' is extremely recognizable and describes the frustration of calling a loved and much missed person who's far away perfectly. It's why my husband and I never call each other when one of us is away for a couple of days. I especially loved this line

I can hear the waves breaking and
My love buzzes

'Lady Edinburgh' made me smile. Such nice imagery!

I'd probably make you extremely uncomforable if I asked you if I could rec this in my LJ. I'm going to do it anyway. Can I? (or, for those who've seen 'Avalon': May I?)

You can rec me. Or may. :)

[kohaku1977.livejournal.com]

My grandmother died when I was a very small child, so I don't remember much, just the loss of hair and how different she looked when I visited her in hospital. The poem is rather about how I could have experienced her (and a feeble attempt to explain my reluctance to cut my hair) than my "real" experiences. I would love to have a lock of her hair. Alas. It was a long time ago.

Kelvingrove might be difficult to get when you don't have the background knowledge. Kelvingrove galleries are renowned for their exhibitions about Glaswegian art (Charles Rennie Mackintosh) and I wanted to go there *desperately*. It was closed due to refurbishment and will open in 3 years time. That's where my opening line comes from. I then went to McLellan, another gallery, because they featured something called "Treasures of Kelvingrove". Just so you know where this little poem came from. :)

I was surprised that you liked basically all poems (except Kelvingrove but hey). Normally just one poem "rings true" to someone. So I feel very flattered and loved now.

And of course you can rec my poetry in your LJ. I might be a bit flustered but it's not really making me uncomfortable.

Thanks for reading btw. And commenting. I feel special now. :)

...catching up on my friends list...

[loreley-se.livejournal.com]

...and finding your poems....

I hope you won´t feel bad about this (because you shouldn´t) but I started crying after reading "Nan". I loved it but it made me very sad. Thing is, my grandmother lost all her hair before she died. It was not shaved off - she had leukemia and got a chemotherapy which made all her hair fall out. And then she died before it grew back.

But I smiled again when I read "Edinburgh"!

...making me all flustered...

[kohaku1977.livejournal.com]

Oh God. That's amazing feedback.

I do not feel bad, just sad for your loss. It's like sharing your loss, actually. I was too little to remember what happened to my Nan, so just this image stayed with me.

I'm glad you liked both poems. I really am. It still is difficult for me to publish poems, on the net or in print, so feedback is always very appreciated.

Thanks so much. Reading that it made you cry does show me that I can write. Poetry needs to touch peoples hearts, it speaks to their feelings. *is happy* I'm more than happy that "Edinburgh" made you smile again! It's not one of my "funny" poems, but... good to know I didn't depress you for a day.

*hugs*