Poem

Warning: I seem to have been in a pretty negative mood space when I wrote this. I considered not posting or re-writing, but I started writing another post over the weekend that I’ve not finished and I’m too tired to finish it right now. I’ve also not posted this week (I guess it is a weekly blog?) so why not? Why obscure reality? This got super deep for me at the (tipsy, again) time, but you may think it’s just superficial (or just rubbish), so I’ll frame it with a note that today’s negativity was the fact I just tripped over my Easter egg going to grab my laptop. Considering that was the worst thing that happened today, I think I’m okay. Very different levels of mood here.

Anyhoo…

We Flecks

We are but flecks of paint
On the chessboard of life
Not even pawns
The sacrificial pieces
Neither queens, knights nor castles
Not even full squares
Yet flecks make up a whole
As small and unseeable
Unimportant, seeming
But if all unimportant things are erased
Erasure is all that’s left
We may be flecks
But proud flecks shall we be
As much passion as has a nation
Can within one person be
The fleck is not an insignificant
And seems so all the same
It is determined by we flecks’ own perception
All encompassing and unobserved
For we flecks
We shall not forget
Or, yet, we shall try

I just re-read that and not such a negative ending after all. I clearly went through a process here – slewing out the bad thoughts and then my shy positive mind had a chance to spin it around. Maybe I should try to give her more space to breath. She’s not so bad.

Adieu

In Which I Write a Poem

I had dinner with a good friend last night who has recently moved away from London. Luckily she hasn’t gone too far (Kent), but as I live in Surrey it seems particularly far to me. I always have really good chats over dinner with her and last night was as engaging as ever, so on my (tipsy) train ride home I pondered on the nature of friendship, particularly those special ones that remain strong in spite of distance and time. Here it is:

Two Hearts

Two hearts as one
Distant in time
Yet not in essence
Friends, old and new
Both, simultaneous
Helpful and helping
And selfish and selfless
Love, innocent, childish
Adulterous but pure
Necessary but wanting
Equally mutual
Forever
And for now