I was supposed to publish some love poems on Valentine's Day, but then I thought that that particular day wasn't really the day for tragic love poems. And it seems like tragic love poems are the only kind of love poems I have. Then few days back, I read my old poems and was surprised that I had actually portrayed love in the traditional 'meaning of life'- style. It inspired me to write the poem I Used to Write about Love, and since those old love poems are all in Finnish and too embarrassing to be published (and tell nothing about the way I think about love nowadays), I decided to publish some newer poems.
I also read some old diaries of mine, and I didn't even remember that I had been a romantic person once. Like pretty much all girls, I had few pathetic crushes when I was about thirteen. I just laughed at myself while reading those old texts. It was somewhere after the beginning of high school when my thoughts about love and romance took an ironic turn. I think these poems will give quite a good description about my attitude towards the subject. They are arranged from the oldest to the newest, except I Used to Write about Love, which I thought should be the first in the order, since it inspired me to write this post.
I Used to Write about Love
I used to write about love,
when I didn't even know what it meant
I was lonely since day one,
but my dreams were soft and pastel pink
I used to believe in happiness and the goodness of the world,
my imagination was made of hearts and hopes
I've been an outsider as far as I recall
but tomorrow used to be a new chance, and future full of light
Years kept passing and I kept waiting
Somewhere along the way, hopes started fading
I hardly allow a dream
only a cold one
I write about nightmares,
irony of life
White dresses and decorations of lace,
become leather, and the lace black by its shade
Screams of joy and smiling at strangers,
shout in the emptiness and comforting pain
It's hard to believe,
that I used to write about love
It's hard to believe,
that I used to dream in pink
And it's hard to believe,
that I ever believed
The next poem isn't technically very good in my opinion, because I wrote it with rage around those days when I realized that love isn't the most important thing in the world for me. But I don't mind the structure, because the content still works for me. I had written the date 2014 in my poem book, but somehow I feel like it must be more than two years ago when I wrote this.
Love Is a Weakness (2014)
Their songs, their books, their poems and their dreams,
all tell about what they think is all they need
No ending as happy as to have it in their lives,
no food, no drink, no heat, if someone's by your side
They're weak, they're blind, they can't reach the sky,
but like a drug, one thing takes them high
And they say it's a blessing, the meaning of life,
and if not because of that, no right to cry
No story without it, no broken heart,
and without it, you're just cold and dark
Say you don't get it, that you don't believe,
and they think from Hell you are released
The answer to everything, the reason to fight,
to get back on your feet, is to have it, or die
They search for it through their lives, and if you deny,
you're lying, or hiding, too scared, or it's your pride
If they want to be happy, they need to have it,
there's no other way,
because who, who on earth, would live for herself?
One feeling, one word, says it all,
love, is what it's called
The greatest thing of all, I agree, it's nothing less,
the greatest of them all, love is a weakness
Now comes the phase when I had a lapse with disliking romance. I'd like to erase that phase off my life, but at least it gave birth to few poems. The next poem has much more words than my poems usually have, because I had some super inspiration and I had to have every single thought inside my head written down.
All seasons fade (2015)
You color flowers bright and make it snow in summer heat.
You make grass grow green in chilly breeze.
You make autumn leaves shine yellow and red in southern wind.
You make ice sparkle in white and blue under the sunny night sky.
You make cherry trees bloom dreamy pink on burnt ground.
You light up the stars of winter on Midsummer Day.
You give sunrise the colors of darkness and twilight the glow of heaven.
You melt the moon and freeze the sun.
I can see it in your eyes
Beautiful blue, and cold as ice
You look at me and I can see the night,
and the day,
and the stars,
and the light of the sun.
You talk to me and I can hear the wind in the trees,
and the sound of rain falling down.
You smile at me and I can feel the grass on my skin,
and the heat of a cloudless sky,
ice that's soft like glistening cotton,
thorns of roses that tickle like feathers,
blizzard like drizzling pieces of broken dreams.
And you make the ice of an ocean melt beneath my feet.
You set the heaven on fire.
You bring heat to winter,
making snow melt into grey slush
and freeze into black ice.
You bring frost to summer,
making flowers wither,
and leaves tear into shreds.
You water the starving ground with tears of sorrow.
You draw black clouds and block the light.
You bring autumn to spring and kill what hadn't been born.
You bring summer to winter and take away what would have been colorful.
You let the sun and the moon crash and crumble into ashes.
And you kill what you brought to life.
You take away whatever hope you planted.
You reveal whatever faith you gave
to be a lie.
You can't stop the growth of whatever feeling you started.
You created and left to droop.
You broke down what made darkness turn into light.
You left me with nothing but grey.
Like deep freeze in summer heat
You look away, and all seasons fade
I Watched You Leave (2015)
I watched you leave,
through the bleary window-screen
You didn't hug me before you went,
maybe it was for the best
For the last time,
I looked into your eyes
For the last time,
we said goodbye
I watched you leave,
and I learned
what window-pain really means
Apples On the Ground (2015)
Apples on frozen ground,
apples painted black
Under the darkening weeds,
ripped down,
under the tree
You've been picking up the rotten ones
Taste after taste
Trying to like them,
trying to find the one
Until they made you sick,
the apples painted black
that you picked from the ground
And when a good, shiny one dropped on your hand
Black, sparkling in the moonlight
All you had to do was take a bite
You threw it away.
What Comes After the End (2015)
What is there left to say?
Now that I'm looking at you with these darkened eyes
Do you want me to explain?
I lived with your lies
Now my words have dried out
And you don't know what you meant to me,
because you only listened when I didn't speak
I tried to tell, you can't break what's already broken
You taught me one kiss means nothing
When a hundred kisses meant nothing,
I started to see
You weren't the one for me
Is it me who needs to explain?
Tell you what comes after the end?
I have no words left
I have nothing to give you
What comes after the end
You should have listened:
Nothing for you, nothing from me,
But now I am free
As you can see from the next and newest poem, the state of my love poems have grown into a different form since 2015. Although I don't know if this one would be classified as a real love poem, since it has this rather hateful atmosphere, but I think it fits here nicely after the previous poems.
Droplets (2016)
You made a crack on my stonecold wall
to let out a droplet of that sickening shade
you needed to paint her green
I poured out droplets of sorrow
reconstructed something hollow
You tore down my indestructible wall
to tell that you don't want what's inside
when you had already turned away
I poured out droplets of hate
sealed the final gate
Quietly in the dark,
I add another brick on the wall
I make a grave out of broken dreams
forge swords from smothered screams
I drain droplets of crimson
I don't need another lesson
I won't suffer a third one
I left out one old poem because I thought it needed a little modifying. And this post is already miles long, so I'll publish the missing one later.
