Bella Isaacs

Bella Isaacs Jun 2020

This minute gives me no strong feelings - “...Going no where...”,
Stornoway, you had it there
Yet we are, just slowly, as slowly as Boats and Trains
And I fear unrequited love too, and I fear the rains
That bless tomorrow, and I fear Dad’s bottle of wine
Will never see the day when the light will shine
Through glasses it’s poured into, and our eyes, and our hearts
I don’t think anyone has even thought about rehearsing their parts
‘Cos it’s a very, very, very long way a way
Too too long way away, freedom to love, to smile, to breath, day.

Bella Isaacs Jun 2020

Punting

Gliding on the Isis, Dad at the castle
Not hindered by the usual watern bustle
Summer is come, my sister’s a flower
Unfurling to sweet sixteen’s tune in this hour
Dog roses and nettles, poplar and willow
Leaning over the bow’s bitter pillow
The world’s upside down – Didn’t need the self-posed illusion
To prove it. Elderflower, wine, and face masks are an odd infusion
But I lie, steampunk Docs in first position, stilled in time
Immortalising it in few photos and poor rhyme
Poor as my experiences are rich, but capturing to perfection
The aimlessness of mine, of our, wonderings’, wanderings’, their recollection.

The Magdalen Boathouse opened today, at last! My father treated us to a punting expedition this afternoon. I've loved this activity since I can remember, it is a quintessentially Oxfordian thing to do. It feels like a bit of normality is coming back, but guiltily, I kind of liked having the river to myself.

May 2020

Puck

Misguided

And when the lover of the stars
Found himself on the deepest pit of the ocean
He finally understood that all his life long
He had made the wrong choices

Bella Isaacs May 2020

Muse?

Muse, did you heed the government's call
For social distancing, after all?
I wonder sometimes, why you're not there,
Whether some of my poems are just from your whisper
Over Skype? I sit waiting for you to come online.
Impatient, I call. A tone. 5 minutes. It's fine.
No answer. You answer me less than I answer the man
I should be writing for, though I give you all I can.
Muse, you have me, my mind, my hands,
Ready to serve you, make you great to my friends, to art, to all lands...
What's that? I hear your crackled, fizzled voice across the line,
Once dulcet, mellifluous, I can barely make it out. "Buy a mic!" "No, you put up the volume!" It's fine.
Except it's not. Love me, or hate me, you're mine
And we need to work together through this
Because ink is my, your, lifeblood, words, a lifekiss
You tell me I can't force words upon a page
And in my childish, petulant, repressedly silent, still sage, rage
I tell you "It's all that some of us have right now."
You sigh. I sigh. "Do you remember, Inspiration, remember, how
One enlightened fifteen-year-old said
"Genius is the ability to create
Something
Out of Nothing."?"

Bella Isaacs May 2020

Sonnet on Stone idols

Pray, seek not glory for thyself for love.
Learn from the master: ‘Tis a waste in shame
To think the earth and sky and wills to move,
To think to make Heaven thunder thy name,
To think that falling stars are thine to keep,
To think that one converse with merfolk can,
To think thou know’st the place where fairies sleep,
Believe thou canst turn stone into a man.
If such, thy sweetest idol, asks for blood,
Wouldst thou grant it him, to appease his wrath?
And even if he asked thee to do good,
Look to his brow, if he a conscience hath;
If such are the demands that thou hast done,
Believe, he is no better than a stone.

#unrequitedlove #selfrespect

Bella Isaacs May 2020

When this is all over

When this is all over,
Assuming it’s nice weather,
Let’s take punt of some description and conquer the Thames.
When this is all over,
When we can meet together,
Let’s make all Oxford sick of our songs and games.
The air cries for youthful fun and folly,
The butterflies, birds and brooks are jolly,
I look on and I smile, but inside I’m glum;
Since this promising May
Makes no promise today
The date on which the end of this prison shall finally come.

When this is all over,
Let’s take to fields of clover,
Let’s tear down through New College Lane
Crying for the love of life though you’d think we’re insane
I’m tired of walking and having to feign
Being happy, when the secret to happiness shall always remain:

“Por sentir la gioia,
devi condividerla” - Mark Twain

#tohappierdays