absurday

 

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she,
slots symposiums in envelopes
that she never sends.

he,
has fingers that shiver with reconnaissance
but uses them to play the violin instead.

they,
make drunken contact, sharing
evaporated kisses and a temporary
osmosis of the soul. 

swimming in the lacuna
of disillusioned love
feels more like drowning than release.
they,
emerge from the dream
covered in crushed
butterfly wings.

she,
stumbles home and rubs
solipsism on her lips, before sleeping
without her teddy bear.

 he,
never forgets how her breasts smelt
so much like fresh onions wrapped in toilet paper.


I submitted this to a literary magazine but it wasn’t accepted, bummer. On the bright side, it does feel like a pressure has been released from me. Expectation and excitement are weighty things and can become a burden if they aren’t carried away with the giddy lightness of success but I’m genuinely happy that at least it means I can share it with you guys here, now.

Full disclosure, my ego is a little bruised but mum always told me the bruised fruits were the sweetest (I don’t know if that was just to get me to eat them before they went bad) but that’s sort of comforting to remember.

Here’s to not being the best but not giving up, writing until the very last drop of ink dries up, even if it can at times look like just a muddle of darkness. ❤

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16 thoughts on “absurday

  1. I’m sorry to hear this piece didn’t get accepted. I’m glad you shared it with us, but you could have submitted it somewhere else. A rejection doesn’t mean that a piece isn’t good, it may mean it wasn’t the right fit for that publication.
    I love the photographs you chose for this. But on to my comments about this piece. Something that I heard recently is that punctuation is subliminal, and I find that particularly true for poetry. In this piece, the punctuation had an active role in creating a pause at the beginning (or in the middle) of each stanza in a lovely way. It’s almost like taking a breath to release a butterfly and then watching it flit away.

    Like

    1. Thanks for your suggestions Mandie, you’re totally right. Maybe in the future I will look more into different publications too and of course trying to write more/improve my work in the mean time!

      Liked by 1 person

  2. I have been reading your poetry and each time, right after I am done with a stanza, I go right back to reading it. Because it’s so beautifully worded. It’s always a pleasure to see that you’ve posted something. I’m sorry this piece didn’t get accepted but even so, I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed it 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  3. “her breasts smelt so much like fresh onions wrapped in toilet paper.” Quite the imagery you set up there. Can’t even begin to imagine such an absurd fragrance. In any case, it was a nice read(or should I ridiculously absurd?). (^_^)b

    Liked by 1 person

    1. haha it is rather silly isn’t it?

      this poem was actually birthed in an experimental poetry workshop where the we were told us to write things that “made meaning but not sense” sort of like how you can look at a painting and appreciate all the colours & textures but not have to know what it means.

      I don’t know if I managed to capture the genre but it was really fun, some other ??? I came up with were:

      “sand hugs sand on beach, birth of a renaissance”

      “the land snacks on fibre and flesh, plasticky wrath”

      Liked by 1 person

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