June Musings

That I have no one else to really talk to in my physical realm is true. Stepping into this virtual world has always felt like a holiday – a respite from the grating realities of my earthly existence.

Here in my country, I’ve had difficulty finding people who are like me: highly enthusiastic about English and writing, deeply introspective, more of an iconoclast, and free from religious shackles. None of my family members or relatives share my pursuits. To boot, acquaintances and personal connections at work I have very little in common with – as my means of livelihood is totally unrelated to my passions in life. It’s on the internet, specifically the blogsphere, that I met people who were interesting to me.

In here, I occasionally seek refuge and a little warmth and the feeling of home. I don’t have the standard life of having a family around. I’m at this stage where I simply focus on the things that still sustain me and elevate my well-being.
The blogland is where I truly enjoy the privilege of running with stanzas and verses of my own whenever I want to– in spite of the fact coming up with the proper metaphor is an arduous undertaking. No doubt my strength is more on prose. Still, my poetic endeavours have been gratifying – because it’s somewhat new, something I haven’t given real attention to in the past. My pitiful lyrical attempts could also be traced back to my half a dozen skimpy silly lines several years back, as romantic verses have always been my preference when penning poetry. Besides, I’m a proponent of the writing tip that one should accord more precedence to feelings than words.
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People around me, including my own sister, have been puzzled as to how I could go on after my son left. In my mind, I am profoundly convinced I am my father’s daughter. In the sense he and I were constructed of sturdier stuff compared to most average beings. No, I take that back. My father had been the real McCoy. There were days I wouldn’t want to rise up from bed and I don’t believe I’m as industrious as he was. Even so, my vow is to keep putting my one foot in front of the other. Because I am still bent on finding out how far my trudging steps will take me – while appreciating everything good that’s been left.

Loneliness is something I don’t want to process much in my mundane condition anymore. I guess it has since become deep-rooted I can no longer tell whether I’m sad or not. Too many losses, griefs, and afflictions I’ve had to set aside to be able to go on living. I’m simply determined to make use of whatever’s left until everything ultimately slips away.

In the event I’d get hit by a bus while carrying on with my daily humdrum tasks, I’d be at peace knowing my words, no matter how struggling and unskillful they are, would have their resting place here.

luthienne, Tumbler, Noirefontaine, Belgium (2018)

My May Poetry

For you are the songbird
that glows in its core
an attachment I honor above the rest
a masterpiece of all time and love.
Remember me past the strength of my devotion
past the complications of my faithful heart
past the tides that once rose
from the radiance of these lines.

–  geena, 24april2019

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Starsfellonlivaniana, livaniana on Tumbler

His restless thought made her smile
their deep affection in silent form
a night’s fever burns within
the sparks of past they left behind
words come to glow they both know
their term for love would run forever.

–geena 30 may 2019

Amy K. Valadarsky, Star Gazing, 2016 – 2017

There’s a version of him I created
whose heart belongs to only me.
If he’d ask why, I’d reply
Dedication is measured by fidelity.
A lasting devotion
between two people.
It’s the only thing I know
the only way I love.

— geena 30 may 2019

April poetry

Sweet man from my dream

core to every love song

I sing through the night

Now the hole in my heart

ploughed by your absence

turns deep as the ocean,

in concurrence with each star

that ignites and falls

over the burden of the three words

I’m forever forbidden to say.

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– geena, 20april2019

You’ve come back

and I see once more

the clarity of moonlight

from the certainty of your touch.

Let me pull you closer

till no space is in between us.

Let my lips find yours –

appease an impractical longing,

for only this moment

through only this feeling

with only your love.

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– geena 12april2019

march poems – 2

Twas a year ago when this heart woke up to the glow of your flame
migrant to my senses, you gained entrance
like a series of prayer to an ailing soul
what else is left after loss of precious faith
when dreams had been stolen by some tragic fate
Now a candle burning across time and space
stands witness to my light in the comfort of your arms 
 

– geena, 06march2019

Let me write about my heart all glowing, loving, and pouring… In a sphere where I keep creating a version of me that’s still able to feel. Such ardent capital lines and giddy verses… But have I been fooling anyone, including myself, by virtue of a rendition between worlds which are far from real?

–geena, 06march 2019

***

What aim could I harbor when I crossed miles
through notes of love that I place in the palms
of a man who pulls heaven to lay near my mind
conscious before opulence every color sets
alert in splendor to each horizon’s breath
but the sum and substance worn out of feelings
is still fluent from its past, empty for a future.

– geena, 08march2019

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march poems

when i carry his essence
to blend with my day
i feel less broken
and when the night quiets down
i seek the bed of words
from which he has risen
that i may lay myself to rest
on sheets of his tenderness.

— geena, 01march2019

How shall I make the moon rise tonight?
How shall I make it inspire an amorous fool
to profess her affection in distinctive ways?
But how are words still essential
when all she yearns is to pull him close —
to brush her lips on every part of his face
for the longest moment the night can hold.

— geena, 01march2019

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