April is poetry month, isn't it?

[floatingleaf]

So... I am trying to make myself post something here every once in a while, just because I still care about some of the people who might actually read it... but the only thing I could come up with today, for some reason, is a bunch of old angsty poems. Don't really know why. I'm not horribly depressed or anything - just kind of pensive and, well... introvert (so what else is new, LOL). And it really bugs me that I don't seem to be able to write anymore... so I decided to console myself with translating stuff I had written years ago in another language. Just because I can - even if it has no bearing on anything going on in my life right now, and won't tell you anything you needed to know about me, besides the fact that I've had my share of unhappy and/or unhealthy relationships (which could be why I decided that reading slash is more fun, somehow). In a way, it also feels good to be so distanced from my own angst that I can treat it simply as an exercise in translation. Go me. Or whatever. *shrug*



tenderness in your eyes
transforms me into a blossoming garden
full of birds and bubbling streams

passion in your eyes
into a burning ocean

joy in your eyes
fills underground passages
with sunlight

sadness in your eyes
extinguishes the torch in the tunnel

hope in your eyes
teaches the polar night
about the dawn

despair in your eyes
breaks the bridge over a turbulent river

indifference in your eyes
slams the door in the face of my smile

wintry chill in your eyes
covers the fire of my heart
with ash

silent reproach in your eyes
kills


*************************


stay with me

I'll give you everything
you never wanted

enough tears
for all the sleepless nights
enough chilly silence
to fill up a few circles of hell
enough uncertainty
to shake the foundations of the universe

stay with me

you'll get the main share
in managing my fear, greed and guilt
I will be faithful to you like misery
though unpredictable like hope
and my longing shall bear bitter fruit

stay with me

stay and ignore
my tightly sealed lips screaming go away

though it is only then I truly know
I love you


*************************


you suspended me
by a flimsy thread
over an abyss

and then you asked
with genuine surprise in your tone
why I was so tense



By the way, I just checked the date on those, and it turns out I wrote them almost exactly ten years ago (spring/summer 1998). TEN YEARS. Time flies, doesn't it?... *headshake* And btw, I did go through therapy afterwards, and I no longer believe I am the ultimate disaster I saw myself as in the second poem. It was someone else's view of me, which I obligingly internalized (back then, clueless was my middle name). So much for romantic fulfillment, lol. Now back to happy solitary consumption of angsty slashy sagas, in which, more often than not, Orlando is in pretty much the same predicament (or ten times worse, LOL) - until, of course, Viggo saves him and shows him the meaning of true love. Yeeeaaah. And then they stay on the same continent - in the same house, even - for the rest of their lives, and never get bored with each other. Screw psychological realism six ways to Sunday... lol.

Um... sorry. *looks sheepish* The above post was brought to you by an inexplicably weird mood and the buckets of rain lashing against my windows. On second thoughts, it's probably PMS - or whatever's left of it now that the obvious physical symptoms are gone. I guess no amount of consumed fiber does away with existential pain, then. Bummer. *snort*

Comments

[stormatdusk.livejournal.com]

showed (in email, with no names or anything) that last one to my sister, and she just typed back:

L O V E I T

like that, with the spaces. :)

[floatingleaf.livejournal.com]

Wow. Thanks for letting me know. *blushes*