Friday, August 31, 2012

A poem that is specifically not about romantic love:

We had to write a poem for my writing class that was about any love other than romantic love. Here's mine. Not the greatest work of ever, but I quite like it. :) xx

A poem that is specifically not about romantic love:
By Tish Haridass

I love very many things.

I love the way words move.
Twist and jump and twirl,
until they form perfect sentences,
that form perfect chapters,
that form tapestries,
woven together with just words.

I love the morning sun.
I love hot showers.
I love tea,
but not as much as I love coffee.
I love lilies and orchids.
I love swimming in the ocean.
I love staring at the night sky.
I love stars,
and I love how little they make me feel.
I love little china cups and saucers.
I love lace and pearls.
I love childish giggles over adult things.
I love things, a great many things.

I love the smell of old books,
in even older bookstores.
I love the delicate feel of pages beneath my fingers.
I love the elegant fonts
that make everything seem so much grander.
I love dreaming of times gone by.
I love that the past is dipped in nostalgia.
I love that all history, if it is old enough,
is doused in a pink hue that makes it beautiful.

I love children and I love cocktails,
though I can’t quite say which I love more
and I am quite certain they aren’t to be mixed.
I love dogs and wet dog kisses in the morning.
I love sun rises.
I love the silence of a sun rise.
I love dancing.
I love laughing.
I love the smell of clean sheets.
I love food.
Yes, I love food.
There isn’t anything a good bowl of pasta can’t fix.
I don’t love Indian food as weird as it may be.
I love being Indian though.
There is something incredibly rich about it.

I love dresses and the effortless way
they cascade over the body.
If you could buy only one piece of clothing,
buy a dress, it’s the easiest way to get dressed up.
Unless you’re a boy.
In which case, I love boys in collared shirts,
and sweaters,
and pants,
and dress shoes,
and ties,
and I love boys who love clothes.
I love that what you wear can tell me
everything I need to know about you.
And at the same time, tell me absolutely nothing at all.

And this is a poem specifically not about romantic love,
but I’ll end with this:
more than anything,
I love love.
I love the word love.
I love the way it sits in my mouth,
like something so precious.

There is no way to write a poem about love,
that does not refer to romantic love.
Because honestly speaking, romantic love
I think,
is the foundation of all other love.
It breeds children,
and laughter,
and happiness,
and pain,
But most importantly:
it breeds inspiration,
which breeds everything else.

No comments:

Post a Comment