Three Sad Poems

Hope Loveday

Comfortable Silence 

 

Wistful and bright

The crowd sings

And there’s a sick kind of feeling in the air

But it’s quiet

And the breeze blows

On you

You’re glowing

 

I always liked the word empyreal

Meaning celestial

Pertaining to the highest heaven

Formed of pure light and fire

It reminded me of you

Pure light and fire

 

A sunset smile spreads across your face

And I’m falling

Like the last leaves of autumn

Left dead on the ground

Among the crowd

It’s cold, winter is here

My nose runs

 

Is it too late?

Because the orchestras stopped playing?

It was empyreal, but ephemeral, too quick

You left

The crowd goes home

Crying

With sore feet

 

Liquid Thoughts 

 

Hot showers in summer

Tender jaw, tight skin

Either diamond or dirt

No in between 

 

Mind of a poet, yet

You don’t write things down

Lost down the drain, in summer

Or between wet pages, stuck together

 

Book thicker

Star brighter

Mind clearer

Not good enough, not good enough, not good enough

 

Come home, or don’t

Go to sleep, stay awake

Think about the sky, but not space

How can the stars be so far away

 

Cut a ribbon and fall down

A reminder of what you’re not

Not her, not him, not a wasp or a whale 

Can’t remember, can’t forget

 

Cut the ribbon, fall down

You can’t write things down

Down the drain you go

Down, down, down

 

It’s Simple

 

Dead plant on a shelf

Filled with books unread

 

How easy it would be to bring it back to life

Or throw it away

 

Old bag stuffed with things

I own but don’t need

 

How easy it would be to open it and empty it

Or stare at it from across the room

 

Quiet friend with curly hair

Alone in a city far away

 

How easy it would be to write a letter, like we used to

Or leave the page unmarked 

 

Tired mind sick of wishing

Hurt body, soft to touch

 

How easy it would be to get a Band-Aid, find reality 

Or forget what needs fixing

Forget I’m there at all

Hope is in her second year of Creative Writing at QUT, and although she doesn’t have any clue what she wants to do after her degree, she continues to write whenever she can about the things that inspire, confuse and intrigue her.