Yule

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Photo by freestocks.org on Pexels.com

This will be the last post on my blog this year, so I thought I’d make it a festive one. I am looking forward to Christmas this year; looking back on the past year, I have made some important improvements in my life, and I’m genuinely excited for the next decade, despite the political turmoil my country is in. I’ve always thought my thirties will be my most exciting decade, which sucks for my later ones, I guess, but I can be excited for it now, anyway.

So, I’m feeling better this Christmas than I was my last one. Here is a poem I wrote last December, which reflects the more sombre mood as that year drew to a close:

 

Yule

Sparkling lights on dark days. Grey mist and snow upon the hills. Fog and rain. Carols on the radio.

Frantic crowds, caught up in the national wave. Propelled by an imperative.

Christmas pudding by the fire. Walks through dark streets, home.

A collective memory, of childhoods long ago. The excitement of Christmas Eve. Grandparents coming around. Sitting on the carpet, expectantly. The smell of Granny’s tights.

To be that excited again…

Nostalgia for the years gone by. Gone, into sepia. Into dust. Into wine.

A time of looking back to the trodden path; it glistens, overlaid with dew of new days, obscuring the grain.

And looking forward, to the clock that chimes on New Year’s Eve.

This is the passing of the days; the ancient days. When all the world seems to stand still. In peace, in collective memory.

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It’s a bit rough around the edges, I know. I might work on it a bit more. But I thought it was good enough to put up.

On that note, have a good Christmas, everyone, and don’t forget to crack open the Baileys! (Or other sinful beverage of your choice).

I’ll see you in the new year (2020! We’ll be in the future!)
X

There’s Not Long Left

dowson

There’s not long left of tears and laughter,
Not long left of wine and roses.

I wonder if we shall recall them after?
I wonder what the world will be like then?

Out of a dream we rise from slumber
Each and every day,
Knowing well our days are numbered,
And our paths will fold within a dream.

 

Inspired by Ernest Dowson’s poem, ‘Vitae Summa Brevis Spem Nos Vetat Incohare Longam’.

 

Letting

Black bile is leaking from my eyes, my mouth;
I need to let it out onto the page;

This is the only way I can survive;
It is my curse; the price I pay.

A deal was made, long ago,
And the Devil said, “You will have to pay:
If you bleed for me you can have this gift,
Of Insight, and of Clarity,

“But first, you must bleed –
It is the price you have to pay.”

 

I apologize if my poems have been a little depressing of late. A lot of what I’ve been posting recently is old stuff, which is going to go into another poetry collection to be published by myself soon (more details coming soon). I’m a happier person these days, I promise!

Sad (God in the Computer Screen)

Thank you The Drabble! Also thanks to the 55 people who liked it. It’s things like this which give me a boost as an unknown writer.

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By morningstar124

I am so sad –
I squeeze my soul out for you to see;
Wring it out like a flannel;
Wring out those very words that haunt me.
Read my heartbreak, my memories –
How sad I am, how unique,
Living in this modern world
Where loneliness has swallowed me.

What more can I do, but
Reach God through my computer screen
And pour out the words for you to see:
Reflections of a bleeding heart;
A shattered mind –
Liberate in poetry.

             
N.A.J. Sloan is a writer based in the UK. She writes because she wants to create something beautiful.

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