Perhaps our view of the world is tinted,
Our vision restricted
By the vignette of a telescope
(Magnifying the dangerous,
Like hopelessness and hope)
Remains – A poem
When I disintegrate into space
What will be left
Is the remains of you
And all the people that made me.
My scattered ashes
Will be seeds
For not just the flower of me
But a garden.
Adventures in film #2 | Moonta Bay
I went on a short trip to Moonta Bay with my boyfriend between Christmas and New Years and in a word it was.. lovely. It was simultaneously relaxing and exciting to just get away for a bit from routine and see some new things. When I came back I swear my skin has never been…
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Adrift – A poem
The ways a place can hold you
There are different ways a place can hold memories. Sometimes you see them and other times you feel them. It might be just a breath, other times the feeling can consume you. But either way it moves you and either way it’s there.
Sometimes it can be like a waft of familiar perfume that makes your heart skip a beat. Or it’s like you travelled back in time and you’re no longer standing there but surrounded by your past unfolding in front of you. As if your soul escapes your body for a moment and the only thing possible for you to do is stand there and feel it.
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Something to feel – A poem
There’s nothing to see
But there’s something to feel.
Sometimes I wish I could be like a tree – a documentation of growing pains.
Sometimes I wish I could be like a tree.
If I were a tree at least I’d know my purpose (or I wouldn’t know I had one).
But instead I’m here, not still but not moving, questioning…
Who am I supposed to be?
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Things the trees told me – A poem
Today the trees told me
That when their branches creak above me
It means they’re listening
And if I hear them whispering
They’re talking about me.
Today the trees told me
All the things they overhear
When we’re near enough
And our minds are loud
Every thought we think is clear.
The trees talked and listened to me today
Red
You have left stain
Upon stain
Upon me
Across the surface of my body
And upon my brain
It’s a wonder my skin
Hasn’t turned red yet.
Fill in the blanks
Have you ever noticed how most people in dreams don’t have faces?
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Lauren Kathleen 