friends like these

quietly listening to friends
talk about
the one who went away

wondering
. . .with friends like these
what life did you
friend
lead?

icy in their words and speech
all the apparent warmth
is steeped in derision
so detached
and deliberate in their cleverness

with friends like these
what on earth did you
friend
see
in all of them?

love, here
sounds like a four letter word
with no other substance
than to hurt, insult

though maybe all they are is
exhausted, because you
friend
were not easy to be
with

so maybe all this
is grief, speaking

about the sudden loss
of a human
being
shorn of all niceties
showing the knowing
of what it was to be a
friend
to the you that once was
a me.

 

©2017 threegoodwords

all the time

notebook 2

a heartbeat

where i wish i could be
several me’s all at once
not split up, not even clones
just me several times over
so i can:

read this
write that
tell that story
watch that movie
hear that interview, podcast, song
read that blog

and have enough time for

mindfulness, peace

but also

write that proposal
answer those emails
make that call
read that article
share that thought-piece
refresh that page
upload that pic
like that comment
double-check that tweet

without forgetting to

drink enough water
take time to cook
eat right
be right
have a slice of great pie
go jogging
stretch right
maybe yoga
maybe swim
go out with people
dance a bit
socialise

and know just enough

about fashion, movies
books, trends, scandals
cocktails and wine
to be in the know
fit in
stay in the flow
of what’s cool
(nobody says ‘vogue’ anymore)

but also have the time to

potato on the couch
netflix, pinterest, spotify

without forgetting to

make things
create things
grow things
be things

so many more things

that are mine and not mine
all at once
all the time
all the time
all the time
.

 

© 2016 threegoodwords

that feeling of being too late

 

keyboard-edar-public domain lifeguard-unsplash

that feeling of being too late.

everything’s so fast these days
zooming by in cyberspace
so far so that knowing something today
is already way too late.

how keep up with all the new things
words, visuals, memes
twitterings +++NEWS NEWS NEWS+++
live streams and live feeds
that apparently are telling us
everything everything everything
now now now
oh my god oh my god oh my god
did you hear did you read did you see?!

one question:
when everything is everything
always, all the time
what is anything, then?
is there such a thing as ‘then’
if everything is always breathlessly NOW?

in this constant always
how carve out a time to rest?
are we even willing
to give ourselves that kind of space?

it’s so exhausting.
one wishes to decompress.

slow down, not just pump the brakes
but come to a full stop
get out of the digital car
and look at the world around us
once again
.

© 2016 threegoodwords

outsourced

coffee paris

we need to re-learn how to take care of each other
we have outsourced so much
even the care of those closest to us
those who were, once, beloved.

we have to re-learn how to take care of each other
to offer solace without fear
without plots of retribution
without vitriol and viciousness
but with that rare thing: kindness, gentleness, sincerity.

why has that become so rare?
why is that not something we can expect
why is it the exception, rather than the rule?
a lot has come to my attention recently
about those left outside, alone, ‘to the winds’
freezing with a body warm
utterly lost with Google Maps uploaded.

we have un-learned the language of emotion
we can no longer speak of love without deconstruction
without cynicism and scoffing
we have no vocabulary to articulate the sublime
that allowed a poet, once, to stand on a bridge
and hail the sun, the sky, an entire realm.

we have lost that primal sound of succour
that beating-drum directness that reaches heart and soul
deep down into the darkest parts of the human condition
breaking through the man-made clouds with a ray of
sublime light that others of less sophisticated times
would have called divine.

we need to learn again
this language of love
langue, parole, signifier, signified
all meanings together, wrapped into each other
used in all languages known to man, woman, child
even if they were once warped by Barbara Cartland.

(and so what for the lace and corsets
so what for the gentlemen in bespoke suits
leaving their card at the door?
they have their place in the joyous abandon of make-believe.)

does that lessen the value of a warm hug, a sweet embrace?
that moment where you come together
with someone who is genuinely lonesome
and needs that one thing you can give, freely:
solace, comfort
peace.

©2016 threegoodwords

like oxygen

image

there is no crime in compassion
no weakness in genuine
gentleness
though one must use one’s head
(pearls before swine and all that).

many stop short of acts of kindness
for fear of appearing
ridiculous.

that is a pity.

so many are lost in loneliness
because loving deeds are left undone
kind words left unsaid
and letters written
then tossed aside
left for dead.

this is a pity.

we must love to live
a life worth living
love is like oxygen.

so be ridiculous –
every now and then
be your absolute
self
the one we’re taught to
hide and deny

that part that is
our inner child:
surprisingly insightful
innocently tender and kind.

© 2016 threegoodwords

Anna Fonte's Paper Planes

Words, images & collages tossed from a window.

Classic Jenisms

Essays, notes & interviews on why literary fiction matters to human living

von reuth

small press. great publishing.

a thousand and one books

but don't take my word for it

Kristiane Writes

Home hub & scribble space of Prose Writer & Poet Kristiane Weeks-Rogers (she/hers), author of poetry collection: 'Self-Anointment with Lemons'.

The 100 Greatest Books Challenge

A journey from one end of the bookshelf to the other