Maria

Maria Sep 6

There’s a smile on my face,
but it’s made of plaster cast.
In my hand I hold
the burnt remains of paper wishes.
I crumple them tightly and wish again for them to vanish.
You’d never know the anger in my fist
from the smile on my face.

I’m standing in the fairground that I dreamed of
- a ruined rollercoaster –
my other hand holding onto the red balloon I wanted.
But there is no balloon.
Not of any colour.
Instead, my fingers scrabble for a handhold in hope.
If I lose grip,
it’s over.

A promise of a red balloon,
but a promise made of matchsticks.
I tell myself
that matchsticks are stronger than flames
but it’s hard to believe even that now.

Seven hundred and eighty-five.
7. 8. 5.
Promises of red balloons
floating from your lips like a streamer
or a piece of candyfloss.
But there is no balloon.
Not of any colour.

My hopeless heart can’t help but hope.
Those you love will never fail you.
But they always do.
7. 8. 5.
That’s how many times.
My plaster cast smile does not falter.
This longing ache,
maybe that is love.

I walk in silence,
keeping tight hold of my red balloon,
but there is no balloon.
Not of any colour.

Maria Aug 23

On Gentleness

Please, let me stay gentle,
do not force me to cry –
raging into battle in a voice that isn’t mine.
Folding into a wooden mask,
day beyond day,
you never would guess that I am afraid.
Head down through the blizzard,
I march as I must,
fighting envy and heartbreak, reduced to mere lust.
Please, let me stay gentle,
or at last you will see,
my face for the world is not really me.
One day it will splinter,
and all that remains,
is a pair of dead eyes, carved by years of pain.
I don’t think I’m made
for this harsh, noisy world,
but my quiet pleas for silence have long gone unheard.
Please, let me stay gentle,
let me sing with the birds,
my voice in its softness at last would be heard.
With the peace of kindness,
we could move through our lives,
if only we all were a little more wise.
I’m not made for fighting,
for the pressure and hate,
just forced into the conflict by some perverse fate.
Please, let me stay gentle,
you’ve said that you care,
yet the blizzards continue, and I am still there.
It’s crushing my core,
having to every day be,
someone so completely unlike me.
Please, listen to me,
no more bathing in blood.
Please, let me stay gentle,
then I’ll know that I’m loved.

Maria Aug 23

When the Room is Empty

When the room is empty,
and the people have left
and you’re waiting, wondering,
what will come next?

A haven of memories,
long phone calls and late-night dances
hard work and parades of tears
then left with hardly a glance.

So many firsts
trapped in one room
the thoughts and the feeling,
stuck in its loom.

It’s no longer yours,
the decorations pulled down,
bare and barren just like when you moved in,
might never have left your hometown.

#change #nostalgia #student #impermenance

Maria Jul 12

If I Were a Painter

If I were a painter,
I’d paint you a thousand portraits.
Then you’d witness my regard,
stretched right out on the canvas.

If I were a pianist,
I’d put my fingers to the keys,
and ease a soft sweet melody,
that sounded like your name.

If I were a poet,
my pen would scratch the paper.
My affection would be clear to you,
the words so full of feeling.

But I’m afraid I’m not a poet.
Nor a pianist, nor a painter.
So, you’ll have to take my best attempts,
and know they’re done with care.

I may not be a painter.
Nor a pianist, nor a poet.
But I think that I can live with that,
all I want to be is yours.

Maria Jul 11

We Lived Here

there are ghosts
in the kitchen.
a delicate crust
of parties once held there.
late night conversations
and delirium.
a crumb of a pudding
salted by tears.
remnants of a dinner
seasoned by laughter.
yes, there are ghosts in the kitchen
confused why you’re leaving.
they didn’t notice
that the party was over.

#nostalgia #student #time #change

Maria Jun 23

Ode to Rivers

slinking along
murmuring words
whether or not
they are heard

a crack in the land
a wound not healed
gushing through
the forests and fields

flowing loosely
from the mouth
from east to west
or north to south

leaves will float
rocks sink low
glimmering with
a moonlit glow

elegant paths
with the softest of bends
and harsh rocky banks
through endless landscapes it wends

a cooling dip
in summer drought
and freezes over
when the snow comes out

a home for fish
and fairies alike
hungry, it swallows
all things day and night

there’s nothing quite like it
we need not pretend
and only at the sea
does the river end.

nature river rhyme

Maria Jun 13

The Flowers' Lantern

Golden globes form hollow hearts,
acting as a lantern in part.
A tailored dress, and ruffled gown,
make walkers heads, look down.

Parading past the riverbank,
for children’s smiles, we have them to thank.
They return, year on year,
standing tall and firm, without a fear.

The petals stiff, yet soft as silk,
hundreds on hillsides, flowing like milk.
Gleaming in the morning sun,
and boldly still, as the day goes on.

But all good things must come to an end,
the petals wither and the stalks bend.
They fold down and return to the earth,
until next Spring, when the daffodils rebirth.

#nature #flowers #rebirth #daffodils