Bella Isaacs: Poems - Hello Poetry

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A Bullet for Your Valentine

Bella Isaacs Feb 2023

A Bullet for Your Valentine

A quiet getaway for two, a co(a)st,
Yeah, but how about, we skip the other?
And, if you "love", why don't I let you roast
With the other marshmallows, and wither
In your blissful lack, blind lust, busy life
Of red velvet and dollars? In my chair,
All the "love" I need to know is the strife
Of strings and sticks and synth and sliding air;
Give me Skull Candy, and my own fiddle,
Give me my view across the painted sky,
Give me my freedom to be a riddle,
Give me the chance to dance and still defy.
I'm not your pretty girl, nor femme fatale,
And if you fall, know you will really fall.

#emo #single #stvalentines #poppunkmusic #folkmusic #classicalmusic #music

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A child in UK size 5 Docs

Bella Isaacs Jun 2022

A child in UK size 5 Docs

They all ask me what I want to be after uni
It's no longer when I grow up, though how
Any can consider me so is beyond me
When I still jump onto the low fences like a cat
And traverse them in my absurd boots with barely a bow
When no one is looking, and everyone is watching, what
A fool and a spectacle I make of myself, I care little for
Until I come home, and realise I may have overplayed the clown -
But what was I made for, if not to hang upside down,
And call the world right side up that way? I implore and ignore
You, and you can heed me, or try to read me,
But you'll always need me.

Sometimes, it's best I admit to myself that I'm still 5 years old.

#innerchild #rebellion #seeingthingsdifferently #dontaskmetogrowup

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“Act 1, Scene 3, Barbier de Séville”

Bella Isaacs Nov 2019

“Act 1, Scene 3, Barbier de Séville”

I am the bride of God but in this play;
Some 6 months standing from today
My boyfriend will be standing yet again
Administering soft words to the pain
Abounding through my mind, and in my hands,
Attempting to convey the mastery of foreign lands
And foreign times to a class of disenchanted youths,
Imagining a number of nightmarish truths
That may destroy my fantasy of July
And prove to my peers for once and for all that I
Am a failure... Hein? Non non. My Fall’s bruise
Is still felt, and Guilt, uneasy, guards my Muse
Yet I am Isabel, I am yet Rosine
And wonders are still yet to be felt and seen
Yes I will prove I can yet master quite the scene
And fantasise le meilleur Barbier that’s ever been…
And in the meantime, enjoy Thursday at the hour of one
Pronouncing French words that we’ve never done
Throw my darling down upon the floor,
Cry out on love though my throat is sore,
Stand the exam officer’s son upon a classroom chair,
Jerusalem’s tune rings loud within the air
When the main man fit it to Beaumarchais,
And my heart still rests with His tender couplet…
He only wagered all on my appearance from my jalousie
And I delivered, so let’s wait and see.

A student director's juxtaposition of pessimism and optimism on what may be quite the undertaking of her life, but worth it. Commiserating with the Comte de Almaviva.

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Again I fell

Bella Isaacs Feb 2022

Again I fell

I've been falling
Or rather standing
Before you
And falling in your eyes
And rising in your eyes
And too due
To tell you
That it's true
I've left the plain
Secure and sane
And I endure pain
Quiet and vain
Loud and bold
The old tales told
Of lovers like I
And still I try
And all
Will fall
Or maybe it's all the other way about -
It's only that I'm flying, and you're not.

#love #knowyourworth #loveyourself

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Almost unto dust

Bella Isaacs May 2020

Almost unto dust

Messy ink, ragged paper, dust
I laid them down to gather dust
And came back to them only now
Sorting, sitting, wondering how
A few weeks ago these worksheets
Were my world, these were feats
Of daily effort to a common goal
Now, never to be touched by all of us at all.
And saying “To think...” to my sister, who didn’t hear,
And likely never will, I all but let go of a single tear.

My first A Level paper was due to be sat next Friday, and now that will never happen, and it is likely that none of my year will ever go back to school.

#carpediem #dayslost

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And now I'm dressed in black

Bella Isaacs Mar 2022

And now I'm dressed in black

Half the time I forget I'm a woman
Half the time I'll act the man
There is no lad out there who will treat me
Like the lady I ought to be;
And so I'm skulking like the teenage duellist
That I wrote into my stories, cruellest
In my smile and style, harsh blacks,
Harsh silvers, stinging hylauronic gloss
The only thing that reminds you that the tax
I place upon myself is a compromise from my loss.
I will fight all those scoundrels for me
Dosed up on Panic! as only I can be
"Whoa! Mona Lisa!" Aye, but catch me bare my teeth,
Catch me look at you, eyelashes poignards, like the iris underneath
The deepest blue
To remind you
I'm not entirely the goth I paint myself to be;
And tomorrow it'll change, as the black shirt'll be *****
And thrown into the wash, and I'll still try to cut a picture
In my poet's silk blouse and blood-red lipstick; I indenture
Them into this image - I'm surviving for every next coming dawn
But, yeah, I'm doing it in a style - that of the dagger drawn.

#panicatthedisco #melancholia #anger #pain #healingonacrookedpath

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An honest woman

Bella Isaacs Mar 2022

An honest woman

How do I apologise to you, as a lady,
When I wooed you like a gentleman?
Do I bow out, and kiss your hand? Again too manly;
Do I withdraw in pique, dangerously fluttering my fan?
I said I wished you the best, no apology necessary;
Best to move on, and forget another shameful episode
Of dropping hints, and asking to hang out, totally unwary
And uncaring of the hints you dropped along the road
Too long for my own stretching it; but in dignity I knew to stop,
I knew enough was enough at that point, for my ***** to carry;
The cogs in my head were grinding to a halt and over the top.
You weren't a man to make an honest woman of me,
But I would be, and am, honest without you, and believe,
As I told you "Believe I will be fine", that I will fly
As I have been flying; When you cease looking through a sieve
Look up to the sky; and yet, perhaps once more, I'll pass you by.

One day, we'll both heal.

#love #unrequitedlove #selflove #betterthanthis #movingon #whatsyourswontpassyouby

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Can I think of you as you?

Bella Isaacs Mar 2022

Can I think of you as you?

I still scroll endlessly through your other pages
Back to when you weren't an enigma and loved the world
A person I barely know - I addressed you fists curled
Ready to fly, ready to appease; I addressed you through the cages
Of what I knew, and the mesh of my anxiety and preoccupation;
You told me little, and I flashed this way and that, trying to draw you
But what of these efforts? I directed them wrongly - You were in view
And I should have held you as the attraction, especially in your immolation
Your drowning, your keening, with your ocean soft voice, no one
Would really guess the storms that brew, at least not a fool like I
Constantly searching in ways to entertain, to please, to die
For you, and hoping you would not let a chance like this to have gone
Because I swear I see myself in you, and you in myself besides, besides
A mystery I wish I had asked more about, that fuels your harmonic sighs
And instead I laid out truths, jewels, as elaborate as lies
I should have merely stood before you, let the tides
Tell you who I am; the actress is merely an element
I'm not here to burn you. I'd like to know you
And how I wish I could give you only what I owe you
Be natural; hold the flowing of my river through your rocks to be self-evident.

Being in love is a horrible, anxious feeling, and being so not knowing if the person you're in love with feels the same is the worst, but then knowing you may have messed up a good friendship with them because you were so self-absorbed has got to be one of the truly most awful, horrible, terrible feelings. Above all, be yourselves, don't bend yourselves over backwards in love, and trust in Fate.

#inlove #friendship #pain #lostopportunities

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Complaints from one who does not see the worst of it

Bella Isaacs Jan 2023

Complaints from one who does not see the worst of it

Frozen joints in a Georgian garret
Grudgingly stirring the fifth peasant soup
Shuffling shiftingly to share it
As lower eyelids, sleepless, hang and droop.
A right for some, a job in lands abroad
The luxury of learning dearly bought
And dearly payed for, still stalwartly moored
And chained with a ball, for living, sought.
I payed for a train to take me back
To the passion that will make a slave of me
But the company never had my back:
For two more score they would yet have of me.
What country fit for heroes is this?
What cradle for young hearts and minds make we?
And cushioned by the green stuff, dismiss
My wish that you may go where you take me.

#studentlife #costofliving

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Dare to live

Bella Isaacs Jul 2020

Dare to live

One life, darling, in this form, at least
One day the sun won’t rise any more in the east
For you, at any rate. Will you be able to say
On that final day, when Fate takes your breath away
You lived it to the fullest?
Made it beautiful even in the second that seemed the dullest?
Here is my advice – do something mad once in a while,
Something that the thought of makes you smile
Not just with delight, but with amusement, too
At its absurdity in it being something you wouldn’t ordinarily do
Take a chance – Take a run, make a dance,
Don’t be shy, and write to that acquaintance,
Compliment a stranger, take photos of ducks,
Order the wackiest ice cream, smile on those times when you’re down on your luck
Because you were brave, and because you dared
To live your life in the truest way that you cared.

I was having a bit of fun, and we need a carpe diem poem every once in a while ;) .

#carpediem #nattendezademain #lesrosesdelavie

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Don't be fooled

Bella Isaacs Jul 2022

Don't be fooled

Don't be fooled by my complacent look
I'll take every word within this book
Give it new meaning, no, it took
Me minutes, or ten hours.
Don't be fooled by my resolve to do
What's not for me, what comes from you,
My mind has still not gone all through
And found reason in these flowers.
For I know I'm of an independent mind
And I know that if the mind is not aligned
With yours, I'll steer my own track down this crooked lane
Where all howl with their might and main
On how they're sitting in the rain
Because investigation, what's that?
Curiosity may have killed the cat,
But don't take food brought just like that
Not knowing what's in the caveat
May land you in the black hat.
And when will you know if you will be pulled out?
And when will you know, if you know, what format?
But, don't be fooled, I won't be sensible,
Sweet, right or comprehensible,
A position indefensible,
Yet infinitely more fun.
Don't be fooled, my reason's lock and key,
There's stumbles still in stock for me,
And alas, many more of these,
Will be some already done.
But I know I'm of an independent mind
And I know that if the mind is not aligned...

"The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results." - Albert Einstein

Das Ende.

#madness #questioning #stubbornness

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Eros, errors

Bella Isaacs Aug 2022

Eros, errors

Who am I, who lost so much to Love,
And lose much to Him still?
I stood on a pedestal above,
And crashed down from the windowsill.
Who am I, that for His sake lose time,
And wit, and manners, I,
Who could have given more to rhyme
That served me better? Fie!
Fie, fie, madam, rest your powers,
Deny that in those fruitless hours
You didn't sit by the radiator,
Cold for your lack of care, and to the heart,
Beaten by your own stern cruelty?
How like a gladiator
You sought your doom, for a greater part,
Called idle indulgent torture "duty"?
Deny the useless minutes spent
Searching for a sign in nothing.
Defy the fact, intently bent,
That you made Chaos "something".
Oh I, who on my knees did weep,
And sometimes dreamt revenge
Upon the object that my sleep
Abhorred, isn't it strange,
That all the blame in all this head-long history,
Should rest upon the wounded, me?
Because I cannot help but choose to love,
As my heart's mistress, though my fancies move
According to their spheres, but I
Could be less cruel to her whose hand does feed me,
I could be my own knight and wave imagined scoundrels
Into air, much less dream and die
Upon the sword I meant to cut the heart that could precede me
And mine. Life, I thought, gave me the mandrels,
But truth be so - Eros, oh errors,
I have bent my back in your service,
And by my own will,
For loved I truly, I should be whole still.

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For giving constantly

Bella Isaacs Jun 2020

For giving constantly

I forgive easily, give second chances easily, give easily
I give up more than I can, feasibly,
Until I realise, the stone idol, earthquake crumbling, does nothing but rain stones on me
And I am already so deeply entrenched,
That I forget how to seek strength,
From a God that hasn’t forsaken me.

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FortnightForFatigue Poem #1

Bella Isaacs Sep 2021

FortnightForFatigue Poem #1

I walked through life with a rude and fresh arrogance:
I was taught it when I was still a big fish in a small pond,
When I still had a can-do-it-all attitude, when the dance
Was life, and the tune was want, and the performer, fond,
Moved like anything. Anyone. Save Lethe, who dulled me,
Who pulled me under waves when I cursed the sea,
When I thought, to time immemorial, I had the energy
To do anything, go anywhere, be anything I wanted to be -
I lived off borrowed time, and borrowed fire,
And borrowed, all of my once blazing desire
Fed no one, but lost dreams - I reap the harvest now:
I should have been a doctor, and I plough
My lack of care and decision, my blind turning, and the resulting salt,
I trudge through the compost of other unfinished deeds, never to halt -
I never knew the meaning of a battery, even when it ran down;
My phone recharges at night, and I simply squint and frown,
Trying to make sense of a world sensible to girl who used to dream;
Sleeping through waking, as though nothing would be as it would seem.

I am undertaking a challenge of writing a poem a day until the 31st of September to raise some money (or at least awareness) for my mother's research group at the University of Oxford, who are trying to find the causes of Lyme Disease, ME/CFS and Long COVID, amongst other fatigue related illnesses. If you are interested, this is their page: https://www.wrh.ox.ac.uk/team/karl-morten . The poems are all going to follow themes that are typically associated with these conditions, such as despair, lost opportunity, exhaustion... Please give me advice and suggestions! I'd really appreciate your input. At the moment, I'm calling the challenge the FortnightForFatigue Challenge. I would like to thank you all for your support in advance.

#research #science #fatigue #despair #fortnightforfatigue

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FortnightForFatigue Poem #2

Bella Isaacs Sep 2021

FortnightForFatigue Poem #2

There are still clothes I cannot bring myself to sort,
Still papers lying, crumbling, crumpling their worth -
My life is a mess since you hit me out of kilter
And I can't pick myself up, let alone my belongings;
I can't pick up, get up, grow up, let alone filter
What I need and what I don't, as in my longings
I asked for you - I should have asked to long for breath;
Perhaps I'm just enduring cramp now, in this little death
Of mine - Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow with a fresh head,
Maybe I'll remember my worth, and not with dread
That I am worth so little to you
Who was just one of a few
One of a few you passed by and left a wake,
Awake. How could you know, sweet rake?
How could I know? Disease can often touch us longer
Than we think; its hold, though weakened, is still stronger.

Second poem in the FortnightForFatigue challenge.

#mess #fortnightforfatigue #unrequitedlove #pandemic #schooldaysover #heartbreak #movingon

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FortnightForFatigue Poem #3

Bella Isaacs Sep 2021

FortnightForFatigue Poem #3

I was looking at shoes, as I was two and a half years ago
Off to mark a milestone, as I am now,
And somehow, as before, the shop owner becomes my advisor,
Sagely dispenses wisdom, asks sage questions, a sagesse that I
Do not know, though I feel older than the hills - the lies for
A true veteran to realise, though I will never be older, we can't deny
Than I am now, yet also never younger, in this moment.
It is easy for one that has seen many to guess the torment
Of a young soul - My life is decided in my teens, and I stick with it -
Or not, as they keep telling me - the door isn't closed - I am young;
It doesn't feel that way - it isn't long I was a babe, it isn't long
I have to live, I lie to myself, savouring little and nothing
Except the wine that dulls me further; It doesn't fit;
Nothing fits, into the time-frame I have constructed from something,
A rate, that isn't constant - the change in the perception of time:
There was a time that hours were days, and now days are hours;
And one day, they will be seconds, and soon will years.
It's all too fast, even when I complain it is too slow; where's the rhyme
And reason and rhythm to all of this? I was conceived; the die was cast;
I'm not going somewhere slowly: I'm going nowhere, fast.

Third in the series of the FortnightForFatigue Challenge. Please check out the group I am doing this challenge for, trying to raise awareness for fatigue-related illnesses through my themed poems. They need all the help they can get for their research! https://www.wrh.ox.ac.uk/team/karl-morten

#perplexity #questioning #closetodespair #life #losingopportunity #youth #fortnightforfatigue

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FortnightForFatigue Poem #4

Bella Isaacs Sep 2021

FortnightForFatigue Poem #4

What flawed design is this? Framed by greed, eyed by chance,
Do you think so easily you can entrap me in this dance?
It is a marriage contract in which I have no choice -
I have no ground, no sound, no voice...
I cannot. What? Either it is my future or my siblings' in jeopardy.
I exaggerate - We can afford this, but barely.
Minimum student loan: The bane of many, the burden of many
Burden of unrealistic measures. You ask me to live off borrowed money
On borrowed time? You ask me to learn as others did off reflections from the past,
When time has moved on, and moved on fast?
When the world is barking at these measures, and still it continues,
And I, at risk of being denied an education, cannot refuse
To do things, not just by halves, but by even by eighths.
And would I, I would refuse another year, and hope the Fates
Prove kind. Do they prove kind to those who complain?
Who ever loved a rebel, when the rebel was alone?

My university is giving me 2 hours of in-person teaching a week, and the rest is online, and they are asking me to travel to the campus to study, meaning I have to pay to live there. My parents are already paying for my mother's degree and my siblings' education, and they'll have to help me too, but for what? I have to take out a large student loan, for what? I have to pay the same as other students did in days gone by, when they had in-person lectures and seminars. And I get two hours a week. I am appalled, and I know I'm not the only person in this situation. It's so absurd.
Anyway, my problems aside: If you liked this, I would ask you please to consider donating to The Morten Group - Oxford (https://www.development.ox.ac.uk/mecfs). This would help fund my mother's PhD, in which she will be trying to find the cause of ME/CFS and other serious fatigue-related illnesses, which affect the quality of life of millions. Thank you so much!

UPDATE: I've found out I am having more in-person contact time, thank goodness! But still less than I would pre-COVID!

#frustration #pandemicacademia #cheated #concern #struggle #weary #fortnightforfatigue

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FortnightForFatigue Poem #5

Bella Isaacs Sep 2021

FortnightForFatigue Poem #5

I still look at Oxbridgers with envy;
I still look at high-school kids bleary-eyed;
I think, I'll leave home and go crazy;
Looking back on old love, I'm cold inside.
My being's regret: I know full well why
It's all past my ears - there once was a time
When gratitude meant something; And, young, I
Was humble. I rose, and I fell, to climb
Yet again, dusty-handed, dishevelled,
And bitter. Do I not shine anymore,
You stars? I can't ask why I am so levelled
Because I know. I can't wail any more
Because I would waste more hours I don't have.
My speech is of a man half in the grave -
I'm only half out of my parents' house;
Wailing would be an insult to my nous.

I met up with two friends at Cambridge today and I was having a hard time containing my envy. I was always told at school I could make it - I knew I could, but I did not impress my interviewers. Possibly 'cos I went in so confident. When I applied to my competitive "Oxford college" style school, I came to interview very jetlagged, and gave it all I had. Those days were evidently over being interviewed by my dad's old college at Cambridge. They lost a real natural. I taught myself French and Spanish GCSE, received the highest marks for my exam in the country TWICE, and was top of my class for A Level. Oh WELL. No, I don't know when I'll get over my salt for this, in truth. But, you know, my godmother told me, "God has three answers to a woman - "Yes, dear.", "Yes, dear, but not yet." and "No, dear, but I have something better for you.".". Maybe I'll become professor in my hometown of Oxford. Who knows? We can only hope.
In the meantime, talking of Oxford, please check out the link in my bio (https://www.development.ox.ac.uk/mecfs) if you can, and, again, if you can, please donate to the Morten Group's efforts to find the cause of fatigue-related conditions. It's been centuries, and these illnesses really need to be addressed, because they are debilitating as heck for many, many people. Thank you so, so much!

#acceptance #movingon #pickingmyselfup #oxbridgedreams #fortnightforfatigue

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FortnightForFatigue Poem #6

Bella Isaacs Sep 2021

FortnightForFatigue Poem #6

There is a story that I'm told:
When I was only six years old,
A playmate I met in Uni parks;
When her mother found out that I
Lived just past the marsh,
I was declared bad company.
To which I did reply:
"When I am rich and famous,
I won't treat you as you have treated me."
Since then, I have met many an ignoramus
But never 'til this evening, did I recall the reply,
Of a hurt, stung, but sage and sweet child: The six year old I.

I think it's always important to be the bigger person. We all have kindness in us - We must be the light when we encounter darkness. Do not give your provokers the pleasure of seeing you sink down to their level. Can it be argued that a person is only truly grown up when they start wishing a person the chance that they might open their eyes, rather than cursing them for keeping these closed, or being by nature blind?
Again a personal poem inspired by today's struggle. It is a little one compared to many others: As you probably know I'm trying to raise money so that the daily struggles of people with fatigue-related conditions can be eventually eliminated. The Morten Group - Oxford is on track towards doing that. They have raised more than half of their target of £30K, please help them raise the remainder, so that they can find the cause and work towards the cure for illnesses like ME/CFS, endometriosis, Chronic Lyme Disease, Long COVID and PANS/PANDAS. Please could you repost this poem or consider donating to this link: www.development.ox.ac.uk/mecfs .
Thank you so, so much for your help!

#mannersmakethman #dontletthefoolsgrindyoudown #foolswillbefools #bethebiggerperson #resilience #fortnightforfatigue

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FortnightForFatigue Poem #7

Bella Isaacs Sep 2021

FortnightForFatigue Poem #7

Why is my head empty?
I have a million ideas of what to write
But none of them seem right.
Perhaps just this is plenty.

Please check out the link in my bio. Thank you :)

#lost #tired #fortnightforfatigue

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Frozen

Bella Isaacs Jan 13

Frozen

The end of last year, and the beginning of this
Spell something like suspense, a familiar kiss
Upon both my frostbitten cheeks, Hello.
These are chaste waves now, at your window:
Barren is the land of my hand, I write nothing,
And I hope for nothing, still carrying
A foreign slogan by my heart for one
I dedicated my deeds to, who's gone
With my writing, since my girlhood arrived
And said she was here to stay, contrived
To do so until we thaw, until limbo
Passes over, until someone says, Hello,
And I answer. Because I don't want anything
Except, maybe, just not to want anything.

#newyear #loneliness #suspense #lowmood

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Go on, flirt with me

Bella Isaacs Mar 2022

Go on, flirt with me

I can do this too, when I'm not au naturel
And trying to beat all of your @sses with how well
I make the gentleman, how excellently I am the imp,
How swell I step, dancing, aside, how terribly I simp -
Sometimes catch me getting back and giving the barman a chance -
I heeded their call; I washed off the day, and stepped into a trance
Of raspberry, rose and sandalwood; I donned my blue and pink silk,
And my black boots, tights and blazer - She's got style; And in that ilk
I also painted my face, with blues, whites, pinks, blacks, golds
And it was late when I stepped out, and in the very holds
Of the night that a lady like I should find terrifying, but I walked
The quarter of an hour to the Silk Mill; talked
For something more like four or five,
Face sharp, hair artfully mad, alive
In every sense, aided by the fine cocktails in this student setting
I could enchant all in four languages, and I did, forgetting
For a bit that another one of my faces I believe to be repugnant:
Because it begs for attention; and my current, commanded it
Because I came expecting nothing, and asking nothing,
And I quite frankly didn't give a d@mn about much of anything,
But if I wasn't very much a part of the room, and very much she
Whom every boy needed to speak to, and would ideally keep the company
Of, if that wasn't I
Then every lie's a truth, and every truth, a lie.

I need to remember more often that I can be stunning, easily, if I just remember that I have standards.

#femmefatale #confidence #winningback #charming

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Hay cosas más allá de todo eso

Bella Isaacs Mar 2022

Hay cosas más allá de todo eso

I will, for I can, go beyond my station now
Wherefore should I be confined? And how
You will wonder at me in the future,
Which I shall make my present, forgetting the suture
That has held my mouth - It is not a scar;
And I have a million things to say as they are,
Or as they might be - I will ape Almodóvar
And outshine Solovjov, and will I go far!
I will be She of the next generation;
But I must get beyond this station
I must move beyond the static,
From the bedroom to the attic,
And from thereon, to the world,
When my courage has unfurled;
And I will seize this with both hands
And deal you wonder, charm and reprimands:
I will paint you images, and write you songs,
Celebrate your joy, and right your wrongs,
Pick at the intricacies, and throw the obvious,
Show humankind as honest and oblivious,
And I will do this all, and watch me so -
I just need to ready, set, and go.

I want to tell stories for the rest of my life: I want to to put on plays and make films. University is not a stop to this - it's just another step. Another step is to forget the existence of potential romantic interests and the supposed "importance" of social media. Then, ahead.

#fame #calling #vocation #directing #screenwriting #acting #storytelling #passion #joy #love

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Honey, if I didn't look this good, you wouldn't give me the time of day

Bella Isaacs Oct 2022

Honey, if I didn't look this good, you wouldn't give me the time of day

I wish you understood how cool I can be
When I'm not hiding my eyes from what I perceive
To be the sun shining from yours
I wish you could see the nonchalant posts
I write when I'm hoping you're there with the ghosts
It's me who is the one so out of doors
Because I'm now tapping at the windows
Like the Dickensian kid I'm not
And that is how my sin flows
From wounds that cannot clot
Stem, stem, but I'm a social scientist
And not enough to be of interest
Of keeping myself to myself:
I need you to look up to my shelf.

I wish you understood how wanted I am
When I am chasing after the success-bound tram
Not the tail of your shooting star
I wish you could see how I'm queen of the sidewalk
The subject of everyone's gaze and idle talk
When my eyes aren't burning the West, so far
Because I'm now singing on street corners
Like the desperate artist I'm not
I wish my luck was like Jack Horner's
Would the Plum Land please be my lot?
Wait, wait, but I know I'm not life's patient
And too much to match your gradient
To be keeping myself to myself:
I need you to look up to my shelf.

I'm not falling off, but I could
I could call it off, but I would
Rather win please, even though
I concede I am losing,
And it's highly confusing
The way I go on with the show.

'Cos I'm now writing stupid letters
Like the complaining tenant I'm not
Counting you... the highest of my betters
And believe me there aren't a lot
Stop, stop, but maybe I'll write something good
And sufficient to get a Laureatehood
'Cos I'm not keeping myself to myself:
I need you to look up to my shelf.

#song #crush

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Hurt, pride, and youth

Bella Isaacs Aug 2022

Hurt, pride, and youth

What manner of a man is he,
Forgetting all the pain that he
Once caused a lady, thinks he's free
To ask, in no small words, "Love me"?

What manner of a lady, she,
Misreading a man's friendly plea
Asking comfort and company,
Compassion, is laughing freely?

No one's right, and no one's wrong,
She's a coquette, and he's not strong,
He's no fool, and she's no fox,
You can't fit either in a box.

What manner of a person, they
Who beat about the bush all day,
Who beat about the bush, that they,
Lose sight of all the truth?

What manner of a life is this?
She's merely waiting for a kiss,
He's waiting for Nirvana's bliss:
Arrested by hurt, pride, and youth.

#fishingforcompliments #breadcrumbing #stalemate

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I await a visa, and the world awaits the change we ourselves must give it

Bella Isaacs Dec 2023

I await a visa, and the world awaits the change we ourselves must give it

Too soon I realise the dreamlike nature
Of my steps on native soil
The horror of my nightmares a reality
For those in foreign lands
Where once, they said, a saviour was born;

And I sing about this time of year
When others sing of £1.20 wrapping paper
And candy-cane romance - dreams
Cost money, but hope costs kindness.

O Kyrie, Kyrie, Kyrie elei-elei-eleison
KYRIE ELEISON. Not on me, O Lord,
For my petty problems, as much as they
Seep into my sleep in panic
And place vices on my heart
- Mine are but the troubles of the Modern Man,
The one still responsible for ancient evil,
Who used Thy Son's words but when it suited Him,
The self-interested, but not self-examining, Man,
Who cuts down Thy trees
To pay tuppence
To the man working 16 hours a day
To make £1.20 wrapping paper -

And a sticker
To go on a document
That lets me fly
Where I choose.

#travel #crises #christmas #kindness

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I could, but I think I'm older than that

Bella Isaacs Jun 2022

I could, but I think I'm older than that

And I could just send him that poem
Because I know it's up his alley
I could, but it's a love poem
And we remember well what happened last time
I sent a love poem to his alley:
I lost it, until it returned, smeared in grime,
Torn up, upon the wind that carries the tumbleweed
And all my hopeless songs that I carried at the top
Of my then hoarse voice, now silken, sleek, with the greed
Of the alley-cat who knows how to survive the outcrop
Of shallow inconveniences like love, papercuts.
And we all know papercuts only hurt kids.

I read Scheherazade by Richard Siken. I thought of someone I know who introduced me to Charlie Brogan, who has a similar style of writing. I thought I'd send him the poem - Trouble being, I once really rather liked him more than I should have...

#oldlove

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I deserve better

Bella Isaacs Apr 2022

I deserve better

I deserve better than empty days
And empty nights, and the empty gaze
Of an empty screen, and my words
My words, my word, hounding me
Like they hounded you, the birds
That knew no better than to fly free
And sing a tune they thought you'd hear
And find sweet. How I tossed teaspoon
After tablespoon of honey, cinnamon, and cumin
Thinking I was a pretty picture, not the loon
I know looking back from the mirror, fuming
Unjustly at you for not seeing ever
This woman who lost herself as she'd persevere
And sever her pride. But it was I, forever,
Who blocked my ears and bound my eyes, to revere
Nothing of any reality or love, an empty chamber
In which my broken voice reverberates, a dying ember,
"Love me, J--, love me?", though my heart knows
That this was not the place to ask or look
My heart cried after I did not listen to her throes,
"This man isn't even a chapter in your book."

Now, I'm just angry at myself, but I need to remember, in the grand scheme of things, I'm still a child, and one should never be wrathful to a child.

#brokenhearted #melancholy #angry

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Idle speech

Bella Isaacs Oct 2019

Idle speech

They all spoke of love, and I knew nothing of it
They spoke of songs, of kisses, of joy
And I longed to know something of it
And I tried, tried, and tried again to find the “right boy”

Then love found me, and I thought I was happy
Or that I would be now, now that I had someone to hold
Too late I realised the sickly sweetness, relationships too sappy
To my taste, though each time I tried something more bold
Thinking, can we both, can I, come closer to the foretold bliss?
Surely there is something more to this than this?

I went in with a picture of knights and damsels
Of long sigh-full poetry into blackest night
Each second lit by single candles
Their image always in my sight

I went in thinking I’d move earth and sky
I thought the strength of love would make us great
And only now begin to wonder why
I thought this was the one and only fate

They all speak of love, and I know nothing of it
Nothing of what they speak, at any rate
Somehow I doubt that I’ll know any of it
Though I am surrounded, so lonely is my state.

Continue reading...

I hate what a mess I am

Bella Isaacs Mar 2022

I hate what a mess I am

Oh the irony
When I called you the guy
Whose music saved me
And now some days I nearly die
And right now I curse your name
And I think, wherever you lie
I hope you lie and feel something the same
Like I, so exhausted I can't even cry
I asked for a bit of kindness, that is all.
And then I remember how messed up you are
Already, uncharitably, and charitably, I fall
Into the comforting thought that so far
And further, you're punishing yourself
And that I could have tried to help
But I'm helping better by focusing on myself
And leaving you to your own quiet yelp
Into the empty world you framed it well to be;
And I think, Stuff it, I deserve far, far better
And not even from you, just generally
And one day I won't blame you, still bitter
As you are, transcendent as I will be -
I wish I could say I felt you deserved my pity.

Just getting the mad feelings in my chest and head onto a page.
He could have tried harder;
perhaps he did his best;
his best wasn't good enough:
put the matter to rest.
(For now)

#anger #pain #sorrow #losingmyself #findingmyself

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I live, I look back, I learn

Bella Isaacs Dec 2019

I live, I look back, I learn

Childhood lessons are revisited
But through the eyes of one much younger than myself
Old films, old books, old pictures, taken off the shelf
Are brought back to the eyes of one visited
By all that once I was told worthless;
I realise now it they aren't children that are earthless
They are us. What is it, that they teach us now?
How to compete, ******* others, ourselves, how
To deny life of its substance, and to be hypocrites to those we love
They give us empty quotes, say that we can prove
More just by thinking, and what of feeling?
What of looking, what of loving, what of kneeling
To thank the Earth for that which we have,
And that which we yet may give?
Rather than thinking solely of ourselves, let us do
That which our parents taught their children to be true.

I think sometimes, that we completely forget about the lessons of gratitude, courtesy, common sense and kindness our parents taught us. I feel more of a child than my 6 year old sister, and that scares me, but also makes me think - What can I do, to be better? To be more knowledgeable, wise, kind and beautiful in my soul? How can I become my childhood ideal?

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I'm waiting

Bella Isaacs Feb 2022

I'm waiting

I'm waiting on a number of things:
When will you reply, though I gave you wings
To fly away if you will, and you have the right;
I'm waiting for inspiration to strike me in the night
That I am again OK without you - I don't need to feel
My heart implode when I read my old poetry, to steel
Myself when I see apparitions of what I had desired,
To blush and reproach myself for being lost, uninspired,
And pining after you again like a whipped cur; When
You hold space for me IRL
And my messages aren't a URL
Of something that I thought would resonate with you, again
I lose myself, hoping I can gain because you gain, and then
It just feels like I'm throwing my love into a void, again.
I don't just give energy like that; I don't just give thoughts;
I was divinely inspired, and I thought your beauty grand
And lovely, and still those aren't the words, and still this Noughts
& Crosses is a stalemate; And you're cross, and I'm five grand
For nought, and flippin' babbling because I'm so, so lost
And I long for your presence and your voice for me, warm as toast,
Nourishing as honey, real like salt, alive for water, and eternal
And lavender. I can forget roses, even if you like them too; lavender, like you, is eternal.

I miss you, J.

#healing #loveishard #wandering

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In my head

Bella Isaacs Jun 2020

In my head

Fire and brimstone in a head
That rests upon my hands,
On my soft pillow on my bed,
Upon my shoulders, even in foreign lands.
A shell just slightly thicker than an egg’s,
But there is no yolk, only firecrackers
That my heart implores, charges, begs
To stop, before the shell truly shatters
Spitting out the grey matter to populate the skies
With nebulae, since I neglected to be wise.

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In my writing is my medicine

Bella Isaacs Feb 2023

In my writing is my medicine

So, what's your downfall, he asked?
And I tell him, I'm not tasked
With losing my hopes in a flask,
Or tangled sheets, or to bask
In false lights of powders foreign,
Though it would seem my creed, I know,
By much my brethren showed and show;
I am an artist, I plead guilty to the crime,
Of being here to ask you to waste your time
To try to understand my ramblings on my pain
And then to waste and waste your time again
Hoping you can see something more
Of everything that comes before
Your eyes when you're not wasting time
Upon this crazy pantomime
I place before you: I bleed, yes,
And hope to give you life in all this mess.

I told an acquaintance of mine "I'm doing well, enjoying writing my novel." And after approving he asked, "What's your downfall?". I think he thinks writers are like Hemingway. I'm mostly OK, I think.

#poetry #poems #mentalhealth #writing #emo

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It cuts with five million colours, and makes my head hurt like h*ll

Bella Isaacs Mar 2023

It cuts with five million colours, and makes my head hurt like h*ll

I became Holmes, past knowing true:
In every sense, I'd seek for you.

Now, taking the cobbles consciously,
Sick, mad, of the essence of this construct,
Dismantling the ancien régime to see
That I am all your stains in concert -

I am made up of every last touch -
Originality's a lie, save in
The combination that you see - as such
It is unique, but I still cave in

At the dawn that nothing is my own,
And much like as if you were a coffee
I'd downed: I could not, for my life, disown
The five million senses cutting me

For the time, for every conscious cup
I'd take and take again: Why should I dull
And cut myself this way, a life made-up
Of such a tannin-full ideal?

My way as a writer is to fall
In love, in my eyes, in yours, in raptures,
In despair, in tough crowds, on God, to call
On my muse and survive the ruptures

Of worlds and heavens, both real and made,
And feel the rain upon my face, but Lord,
How often do I feel, and feel the raid,
Engaged by scent, blush, needle, salt, word?

All too much makes nothing, and I can't flee
To seek another cup: I must seek me.

A poem made up of a few ideas I had today: the pervasiveness of a love, the unoriginality of humans - as we are all made up of each others' influence -, who on earth can I say myself to be, and what on earth am I supposed to do as a writer. Also, I can't really take coffee.

#coffee #unrequitedlove #love #pain #originality #writing #art #existence #purpose

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I want you to see

Bella Isaacs Feb 2022

I want you to see

I want you to see
You who claim to love me
You who claim to save me
From that which I can't see
Ahead, but I know in my bones
I can't let bygones be bygones
Right now - I've worked a week for two
Or three, and I'm tired, and I have had too
Four weeks locked up through no fault of my own
And I am wearing close to the bone
And I'm dying on my own
I am not-crying on my own
I can't say I'm alone
When I'm out of the zone
Where the world is a stranger
And my sun turned from me in danger
As if I would **** him with my pallor
Because I asked for his light, in squalor
Or maybe just too young
And realising how much is wrong
And how much has been wrung
And how I have a limit to being strong
And how I loved too much
That I'm now sick of the loving, friendly, familial touch -
I did not realise how much I suffered
Until today's sweet sunny plans, by me, were scuppered.

Uni, Covid, chores, being a nice person, being taken advantage of, expectations, creeps, my projects, my dreams, my introspection, my health and my guilty love for my taken friend all got to me, and now I'm writing it down, 'cos I CAN... and I probably should.

#frustration #guilt #pain #enoughisenough #selfcare #writeitalldown

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I wish

Bella Isaacs Mar 2022

I wish

I wish I didn't think on you
I wish I didn't think on him
I wish the image of yet another
Long-gone, long-imprinted former lover
Didn't buoy and continued to swim
I wish Love was out of my view.

I wish I'd played a better hand
I wish I'd tilled the soil before
I wish the image of a past future
Didn't rip open the suture
Of my trying to forget the lore
I weaved around a much-fantasised land.

I wish I didn't wish in vain
I wish that I'd let die and live
I wish the image of Her, myself,
Didn't taunt me from my shelf
I made a dusty shrine, forgive
The trespass that I own, in pain.

I wish that I were sober, honey,
And a little drunker, for my money,
Though I invested little, and I die:
I hope I will not breath last 'til I try.

Some regrets.

#regret #noregrets #shelives #shellthrive

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Let me not doubt myself

Bella Isaacs May 2020

Let me not doubt myself

Though I may be laughed at for my simplicity
I’d like to assure, I still have the capacity
To learn
To earn,
If they have listened properly to my life and all its cadences,
Each of my doubters’ respects and silences.

A measured retaliation to being called "gullible" and being questioned on whether I could survive university abroad.

#perseverance #hitlikealadyandascholar #nildesperandum

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Let me sink

Bella Isaacs Nov 2020

Let me sink

Cast me gently, let me sink.
Put me into the person of a smooth grey pebble
Carry me to the shallows, and gently drop me in
That I may fall, disappear, and forget for a bit, the whining treble,
The troubling bass, the choir of cacophonies, a migraine
Appearing around my temples and at my back;
That I may forget, I lack, I lack, I lack, alack.
May the waters churn and lap upon the surface,
I lie, I curl, I sleep, I exist, quiet, in topaz;
My simplicity is a privilege: I don’t need to imagine I’m a gem,
Even if I am. Water covers me, and you aren’t to call them,
Pick me up and dry me until the sea turns garnet the second time.
Let me drown in peace, out trouble; let me remember I’m
Better than waves of doubt would have me think.

#calm #lestibecursedtodayletmenotstir #tomorrowisanotherday

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Life doesn't do halves

Bella Isaacs Mar 2021

Life doesn't do halves

That which feeds, it also starves
By its memory. Life doesn’t do halves.
And life does halves, but people never do.
Tell me it’s false, or tell me it’s true,
I’ll believe both, but nothing in between
One would **** her too, they who say they love the queen
Just so, my love, you are both my hatred and my dearest
But passion – it picks the nearest
Extreme, extreme to the point of screaming
Dissembling, duplicitous, and seeming
But I will call it one or the other
God or vermin, foe or brother
You are all one and the same
And there is no distinction and no shame
From swinging – flame
The flame is the same
Always, we hate and love with one
We fixate on one
And fixation is both
Care and wrath
Emptiness consumes
And so assumes
Plenty, and excess is a vacuum
And I may surfeit of nothing and everything
No, I do not presume
I KNOW (nothing) and can(not) describe everything
So dear, when you call me “pain” and answer me not
I shall not assume I am forgot
Because in the very act of trying, or doing
Away with the memory of me, my memory still persists
And my absence insists
On my presence, and I am still your making, and undoing.

Continue reading...

Look you in the face

Bella Isaacs Jan 13

Look you in the face

I went home today, straight after work
Because your curtains were closed
And although I didn't struggle with the quirk
Of thinking "But maybe..." (not really), hosed
Down with sobriety, I wondered at the darkness,
The loneliness, the determination (nose to grindstone,
Nose to grindstone), and with less than sharpness
I went home, nearly straight after work, and left you alone
And I left memories of another girl somewhere -
Possibly in your curtains - but you wouldn't care
To know that I no longer think, "I couldn't look him in the face" -
I now ask if I will be able to look at myself, in no one's place.

#newme #newyear #accountability

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Mandatory Devotions and a Requiem to Those Who Came Before

Bella Isaacs Oct 2022

Mandatory Devotions and a Requiem to Those Who Came Before

Why should I seek to redeem myself through
Redeeming you?
I'm arrogant enough to know that it's true
And believe me you, please
That teaching the plainly obvious
To the incorrigible ignoramus
Is a labour for Hercules.
And I deserve champagne for my effort
And a smack in the face by reality for desert
The more fool me
The poor fool me
For thinking that my contraption to make fish climb would actually
Work, and it's thankless, you know you should offer
The scribblings you make to the dead lover's altar
Do you think you could live this long
Beating your heart out, crucified and strung,
For the irredeemable,
And polyphemable,
People you thought weren't wrong?
But revenge is no answer, I'm too bold
To make cold
The lie once again that keeps being told
And believe me you, please
That fabled coldness or sweetness
And that cannot-be-beat-ness
Comes along with yet more guarantees.
And I'm a decorated casualty
For my all-too-late good memory that mortality
Is too for me
Not new for me
The cause-and-far-reaching-effect has no good reason to set me free
From the darkness, you know you should offer
The vows that you make on the dead duellist's altar
Did you think you could live this long
Beating your brains out, sanguified and hung,
For the irredeemable,
And polyphemable,
People you thought weren't wrong?
You have a greater capacity to no give no d*mns to this
You have a greater rapacity than to make dams for this
Injustice.
From where I sit, I know I should offer
My wisdom and fears into the dead ******'s coffer
Did you think you could live this long
Beating your soul out, petrified and wrung,
For the irredeemable,
And polyphemable,
People you thought weren't wrong?

A reflection and reasoning written in an emo style on unrequited regard, letting how other people treat you or think of you determine your self-worth, and why trying to prove yourself and revenge are not options.

#emo #londonbeckonedsongs

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Memory Journey

Bella Isaacs Apr 2020

Once more, through town upon my bike, I flew
On Marston Rd, to think, that once, I knew
This road was as the daily one to school.
Then up through Cowley, thinking myself a fool
That hot summer’s day
To make the same way
Down Magdalen St so late, so mad,
Thinking of the fun I had…
Then down past school, the roundabout
Where I’d do a quarter turn about
Each and every day a month ago.
Even past the fields, father would not let the river slow,
The river of my memories, as he asked were these familiar to me
Too? And so they were; Rounders, tennis, punting days’ insanity
Have not escaped my mind just yet.
Up High St, past the colleges, I could not bet
For thoughts to be abated. My sweet town
Bereft of all but my memories strewn down
As I still rode on, and down Queen’s Lane now
Where many a happy lonely moment was spent, thinking how
I rushed down there with shopping early before Christmas…
Taking the corner, admiring the blooms, and fast
The next one, and my chest is filled with a twinge
As I remember a rainy night beneath New College Bridge…
Then St Helen’s Passage, the Bridge of Sighs, the Sheldonian!
My sweetest, proudest moments as an Oxonian…
Broad St, broad and small from lack of crowds
Still my head is in the clouds -
And St Mary Magdalen, the concert with my brother in winter,
The Ashmolean standing tall within the hinter,
And up St Giles, and down the Lamb and Flag,
Thinking of the afternoons I’d sometimes drag
Walking there, various aims or none in mind,
Now leaving the Natural History Museum behind,
And Dad reminds me of the trees that used used to fruit
Along Park Rd where now there are none… So, en route.

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Muse?

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."?"

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My chief fault

Bella Isaacs May 2020

I am a girl, since in my soul I know no better, of curious notions:
I take storms in teacups
I collect them, and channel them into whirlpools
When my soul can no longer take the ups
And downs, when I no longer possess the tools
To build a façade, or can no longer hold them
I accumulate the dust from molehills
And make them into volcanoes, from which stem
And flow the plumes of fumes and spills
Of my lava anger.
And if my spirit intellect were stronger,
I would not bottle my emotions.

Anyone else like that?

#faults #pain #guilt #frustration #desireforchange

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No dice, my word

Bella Isaacs Jul 2022

No dice, my word

"I tried hard to be useful, but no dice"
No, you're right, it's not dice I'm calling for
For Law's a game of chess, it isn't nice:
To blame it all on chance is prison-poor.
We know exactly what we are doing,
But, true, it's d*mn convenient to say
"Just luck of the draw the blighter's ruined,
He should have made it out until payday.
He should have not been born into the slums,
He should have pulled himself up by the hair,
Taken example from our glorious sons,
And to cap it all off, life's rather unfair."
That he has to wait an age to see someone
Who'll legally diagnose him off the stream:
His parents kicked him out when too far gone,
Let dreams alone, a bed is just a dream.
While other lucky kids who made it through,
Whose parents got them to adulthood ripe,
Contend with debt and scrounging their way through
What by true Reason should be our birthright.
What crime is it, to be born silver-spoonless?
We do not ask to take the spoon from them,
But give us but a means to feed ourselves,
Give us a means, we'll polish our own gems.
Give us a means, you who hold your fist tight,
"Hiding" the fabled "dice" in golden rings,
Youth, by your fault, isn't growing up right,
And tomorrow, we're taking charge of things.
With nature, dice exist, but nurture, not,
And standing trial, we point our hand at God,
And He explains, "Have all you quite forgot,
The evil that Man does won't count as odds?"

Young people need more support.

#lostyouth #debt #illness

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No regrets, no thanks

Bella Isaacs Aug 2022

No regrets, no thanks

What, when my intellect was too much,
And brash beauty too little?
And I seemed cool to all touch,
Made of paper and spittle
Like the wasp's nest that I am
And admit it now, I do,
And goodness how I own it too,
"They do not like green eggs and ham."
You've got the wrong end of the tale:
I'm caviar, champagne, and bread,
But I, alas, am not for sale,
And I give love freely from my head.
What, when my name is written in the stars,
Will you remember how you said I had it all
And still was not enough? Could you curse scars
That never felt a wound, and fall
From a tree you never climbed? You fool,
You wise fool, for your ignorant wisdom,
And your Fortune's shroud is still my chrysom,
Yet for my rising are you still the ghoul,
And ever will be. And still, live unhurt,
For how could you know disappointment
From one who you never gave appointment
And opportunity to commit such a curt
And curious crime? As how could you know,
Inert as you are, the blessings that could rain
On you, who are so averse to pain,
That you wouldn't risk letting Eden go?
How can you laud or regret,
That which you did never get?

Past loves, past opportunities, you evidently knew something in your ignorance.

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No strong feelings

Bella Isaacs Jun 2020

No strong feelings

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.

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Of Ants and Giants

Bella Isaacs Apr 2020

Of Ants and Giants

Ravished by lethargy, I sat outside, and gazed at the ground,
Then, thinking, how all the ants and flies went about so sound
About their business, I posed a question in my mind:
Are they aware of our misfortune, or are they blind
And thus continuing untroubled, and so unhindered,
And so thriving...? As we just sit, bewildered,
Inindustrious, confined as mentally
Just as we are physically...
And if we go, dozy giants that we are,
Neglecting of the fact, will it truly matter?

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One road leads to Wytham

Bella Isaacs 2d

One road leads to Wytham

You can say all roads lead to Rome
And a few lead to Wytham
Yes, a few lead to Wytham
As quiet as it is, but roam
Your way, on your bus, on your car:
I only know one, I only want one
And it may be long to go so far
On so little, but I shan't be gone
Unless it be by foot or on a bicycle
Run past the ruins of Godstow, the road
A minefield in sweet quiet from the bridge, tickle
The Trout, press the hedges at the goad
Of yet another motor, on bike or foot
On bike or foot, that I may kiss the ground
In pilgrimage to memory and childhood
Before the shades in which we're lost, we're found.

Prompted by what Can Yücel is supposed to have said about soulmates and journeys. The destination and the journey matter.

#wytham #wythamwoods #oxford #oxforshire #countryside #countrypoetry

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