Dear February

Dear February,

I really missed you February. You have always been the sign of growth and renewal and this year has provided space for that. I am in the process of healing from a cold winter, and your spring time has offered me a warm embrace, welcoming me once again.

This time four years ago I started my blog. To celebrate my Four year blog-a-versary I wrote and published a post each day. And February, the feedback to it has been absolutely incredible. I have gained more followers in this month than I have in the past four, and I’ve received so many wonderful comments that I can hardly keep up with them. My readers have helped me to heal just as much as you have February. I don’t think I could thank either of you enough.

Of course there was some dark clouds this month, but only a couple. Some days were more gloomy than others, but you are just the beginning of a new year. This may not seem too significant, but I feel I have put myself out there more and started to allow myself to be okay. To be honest with you February, I was probably more upset this month than usual. That probably contrasts to everything I just said. But I didn’t mind. It was so much better than just feeling numb. I allowed myself to get out anything I wanted to because I knew sunshine would come the next morning. I was able to relax because I had trust in you to welcome and comfort me each day I needed it February.

Personally, I thought I helped others to grow this month. I made myself more available to those who I knew would do the same for me. I started to talk more to those around me who felt like I had closed them off. I encouraged people to work together and now I have a core group of class friends who I can really rely on in my most crucial part of my degree.
February, you helped me to realise that I grow most when I’m watering others.

I need to thank everyone who has not been annoyed by my blog showing up in their reader each day. I need to thank any new followers who took the time to make my day a bit brighter by clicking a button. I need to thank anyone who stumbled across my little space here on the internet.

I need to thank you, February. You were there when I needed you most. You always have been.

All my love,
Eimear
(P.S. I can’t wait to see you again)

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What I’ll miss

Late caffeinated induced nights
With a gloomy morning to follow
Reminding me that with every deadline met
Two more follow

Loud crowds of people who don’t care
The people who waste time
Who try to waste my time
Intimidating and infuriating

Long bus journeys
That are too high for my budget
But three nights on my own
Would never be worth it

Are all things I will never miss
But that I needed to experience
Coming hand in hand
With all things good

Like early morning walks to the beach
With short classes that encourage group work
Lab filled days with lunch orders
And rotated coffee loyalty cards passed around

Being able to walk everywhere
But also being able to walk home
And close off the world
Without having to report to anyone

Independence
Optimistic people
Safety
Encouragement from everyone

It’s what I’ll miss when I leave
For my last time

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Wish for you

It’s funny how
I have no expectations
But my heart still stops
Only to speed up again
When I get a glimpse of you
Sparking a moment of hope
That I know will never last
No matter how long
I really want to believe it
This control over me
Is painful
So I spend my life
Wishing it away
When I really want to wish for you

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I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings

This year, I had a clash in my timetable so I had to alter it. I had previously picked a module that links in well with my other ones. However, because I had to change it, I ended up in a pretty random class. I had never deviated away from the classes that I know how to structurally write for. All over, I thought it was hard because I had to reflect and think, rather than memorise and repeat. I really enjoyed it. It was the first time in a while that I found myself reading the assigned readings because I wanted to, rather than I had to.
This poem stuck with me. It was one of the first times I read poetry as art instead of homework. I hope you like it as much as I did.
——
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
A free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wing
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.
 
But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
 
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
 
The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn bright lawn
and he names the sky his own
 
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
 
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
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Sea blues and flaming browns

I believe there is more to the eye
Than just the eye
Filled with deep sea blues or flaming browns
Captivating each person who stares

Yet

Eye colour is lazy when describing someone
The blue eyes you see might have never seen an ocean
Their eyes do not reflect the sky like the sea does
Nor does their anger reflect the vicious waves

The brown eyes you see might see more rain than sun
Who paints in vibrant colours
From the natural green world
Growing outside and around them

When you look at someone
It is not the colour you notice
Or what you want to look at
You have to look behind the eye

It is their stare
Either filled with
Confidence or cautiousness
That genetics could never take credit for

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Mean

You never knew why you were never my friend
I could spot your inner you
Clouded by an aura that enticed people to you
Confident vibes given off
But I only ever saw you as mean

I know you tried to get close
I know you know I didn’t want to

Very subtle ways
That you weren’t used to
Trying to shake off the feeling
Of not being liked for the first time

You never impressed me
Much to your dismay
Of using big words
So others would deem you important

But big words are viscous
Laughing at those who didn’t know
Bluffing their way to get your affection

I know what it’s like to be attracted to a personality
Letting go of all gut instinct
Unintentionally being passive and naive
Vulnerable to be taken advantage of
I never knew how people felt that way for you

I watched how you acknowledged that power
And liked it too much

I’ve never been your friend
I’ve never told you why
Keeping my head above the water
Before I get attacked
By your viscous words
Or people pleasers who would believe anything
Just because you told them to

mr_mean

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I’m sick of writing metaphors

I’m sick of writing metaphors
Cryptic thoughts have never been my strong point
The frustration of my reader not exactly knowing my reasons
Outweighs the feeling I have to keep my thoughts hidden
I know it works for other writers
But I never thought it worked for me

When I write about the sky I write about the stars and the galaxy
Not about the galaxy in my head
The ocean comes and goes just like my breath but I’d rather write about the sounds I hear on the beach
I could stick numerous amounts of detailed, eloquent, or revealing words to convey and reveal my vivid thoughts

But I don’t want to

Never have I thought it bothered me but I miss being
Real
Raw
Revealing

Poetry is like dessert to me
Enticing and exciting
But should not be with every meal

My thoughts are my meals
Presentation is not the most important element
But as long as it is there
And tastes satisfactory
Then I’m happy
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