Oskar Leonard's Blog, page 14

Love Between Fire And Ice

I have another poem from that upcoming project that I’ve mentioned before in one of these blog posts for you today. It’s a rather long one, by my current standards for the poems I’ve been writing recently, but the concept intrigued me on a walk home recently and it’s been burning – unintentional pun – away in my head for a while, so here’s the poem.

Love Between Fire And Ice

Why won’t you fall in love
with the one you see in ice?
Kiss her with your lighter,
and see how the love of fire
will destroy the one you desire.

It’s a perfect disaster, mashed
into a masterpiece. Love her
while knowing that your love
can do nothing but destroy her;
the test, for you, is whether

you’ll allow her to return to
your lapping flame. She will,
but you, sweet mistress of heat,
must turn away the one of ice,
although it breaks your heart.

In truth, there are only two outcomes;
this world is not fair in that, for you
and her, even pursing equal goals
is not equal. Bring her closer, and
she will fade away before your eyes.

But if you cast her away, then you will
know the rejection of the self: denial.
Unselfish as it is, it will gnaw at your soul
until you know no other nightmare but
the dream life you could have never had.

Enjoyed the poem? Why not check out Our Paused World or Aleatory Poetry?

(They’re my poetry collections! Available on Amazon!)

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My Sorrow, Yours To Keep

Not super sure on where the inspiration for this poem has come from, but I’ve been working on a few new projects recently so my writing mind has been prickling with new ideas. Hopefully, I’ll have some more concrete answers for you guys soon–but, until then, here’s a sad little poem for you to ponder. Enjoy!

My Sorrow, Yours To Keep

The ghost of your touch
is a tear, slow, belonging to me.

You’ll never understand, but God–
God, I wish you could.

I can name every star
and now you have one, too.

It isn’t your fault,
but my sorrow belongs to you.

Enjoyed the poem? Why not check out Our Paused World or Aleatory Poetry?

(They’re my poetry collections! Available on Amazon!)

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For Someone

This is actually a poem that I worked on in one of my university workshops, so I’ve edited it more than I usually would and received some interesting feedback on it. I know that university has really put a stop to a lot of my plans for my writing and books, but this poem might be part of a project that I hope will signify me getting back to my ‘author feet’, in a way. In any case, I hope that you enjoy it today!

For Someone

I need to tell you
that hope doesn’t die
after the last bus,
when your world is dark
and beyond feeling.

I need you to know
that life still exists
in those frozen hours,
although you can’t see it
and don’t want to.

I need to hold you
when all others leave;
you’ll never live a day
nor face a starless night
without my spirit beside you.

Hold on, sweet one–
I am here for you,
through everything
and those unbearable moments
of nothing.

Enjoyed the poem? Why not check out Our Paused World or Aleatory Poetry?

(They’re my poetry collections! Available on Amazon!)

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Life’s Stage

Fun fact – this poem was inspired by a time when I went to watch a play, which you will probably be able to tell by reading it. But anyway, I hope you enjoy the poem!

Life’s Stage

We laugh,
despite everything;
despite tears,
despite life,
despite all that we know
to be wrong.

But when we cry–
oh, when we cry
the world falls apart
and we see it all
for what it truly is.

A stage built on misery;
a script written in tears.

Enjoyed the poem? Why not check out Our Paused World or Aleatory Poetry?

(They’re my poetry collections! Available on Amazon!)

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Prayer

I don’t know what this is, except that it’s a poem and it might be a prayer so that’s a good enough title for me. Enjoy, I guess.

Prayer

What have you given to me
but half-grown dreams
and trembling fingers?

Say you gave me life–
I dare you.
It is not life
that I breathe.

Do not hate me
when I lie–you have caused
all that you hear.

Enjoyed the poem? Why not check out Our Paused World or Aleatory Poetry?

(They’re my poetry collections! Available on Amazon!)

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It’ll Be Better In The Morning

Not going to lie, I have very much combined a writing task from the Creative Writing side of my degree with this week’s post, but I’m hoping that you’ll enjoy it! The heart of the task was creating images, assigning purposeful adjectives to them and layering sound on top. Feel free to let me know your thoughts! But anyway, here’s the poem.

It’ll Be Better In The Morning

Call to me, misty red,
with nocturnal song
duetting with buzzing skin.

Tell me the truth
of ripped skin
and small, exposed wounds.

Assure the starved eyes
that beyond the cruel screen
a misshapen moon awaits.

Enjoyed the poem? Why not check out Our Paused World or Aleatory Poetry?

(They’re my poetry collections! Available on Amazon!)

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My Friends

Today, I decided to show you a poem about the stars – or, rather, the lack of stars that I noticed one morning when I was walking to the bus stop. Seeing the stars and the moon in the early morning is one of the best parts of my day, especially when I have to wake up so early, so seeing a sky without them is quite saddening to me. Therefore, a poem was born – although the stars have since returned to the sky, you’ll be happy to hear!

My Friends

Who took them? I see
an endless sky, clouded,
but my friends have left–
or been stolen.

Some great hand, perhaps,
plucked them, one-by-one,
from the yellowed darkness–
even their father cannot find them.

He hides his nocturnal glow
in shame.

Enjoyed the poem? Why not check out Our Paused World or Aleatory Poetry?

(They’re my poetry collections! Available on Amazon!)

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Dust

Another poem for you this week. I guess it’s about tiredness, but a different tiredness to the usual yawning sleepiness. It’s more of an ache that won’t go away and follows you through every single day until the smallest task becomes a challenge and you have no idea why. Anyway, here’s the poem!

Dust

It is an eternal ache
which seeps past body;
it becomes soul,
without asking permission
or extending a greeting–
no, it knows no politeness,
this awful dust.

It will hold my hand,
as it drives a knife
between the plates of my spine.

Blame it for dead mornings
and deader nights.

It forces my eyes open,
as I lie, waiting, for sleep,
but it doesn’t care for function.

I don’t know where it comes from,
or where it rests during dull moments
when it forgets me; all I know
is the haunting it commits to,
of my mortal body
and the immortal soul
and any other part of me that it can find.

It knows me as I do not know myself,
and destroys mysteries I have not solved–
taking the clues one by one,
it reduces all to dust.

Enjoyed the poem? Why not check out Our Paused World or Aleatory Poetry?

(They’re my poetry collections! Available on Amazon!)

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Not Quite Home

Going to university, for me, means long bus rides through places I haven’t really been to before. It also means looking out of the window a lot and wondering about these places, where some things are the same as home but some things overwhelmingly aren’t. As such, I ended up writing a poem about this very thing–and here it is!

Not Quite Home

These maroon blazers
are not the same–
they speak of home,
as do the blue,
but the tone they have
speaks for itself–
this is not home,
and cannot be.

Remember the blue
that we wore–
you and I,
in years gone by–
not only do others wear our colour
but these colours are not ours,
and never were,
and never will be.

Their buildings soar,
while ours were comfortable–
small, I suppose–
and they collect outside the gates,
tall, imposing gates,
in a way that we never could have,
never did,
and now, cannot again.

Enjoyed the poem? Why not check out Our Paused World or Aleatory Poetry?

(They’re my poetry collections! Available on Amazon!)

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A Train Journey

I’ve found myself on a lot of trains recently, sometimes for rather long periods of time. I just find that you get a strange feeling when you look outside and see the entire world rushing past, and then look again to see that it has all been replaced by yet more world. So, naturally, I wrote a poem about it – please enjoy!

A Train Journey

Surging past, the open air,
yet not so open–quite contained
within a cylinder of forceful might
known to us as only an aid for flight
but not quite flight, as we do not leave
the ground that supports our very feet,
only allowing ourselves to move onwards
without a thought for those behind us–
the calling birds, swooping so;
the weary trees, drooping so–
all is behind, and, at once, gone.

Enjoyed the poem? Why not check out Our Paused World or Aleatory Poetry?

(They’re my poetry collections! Available on Amazon!)

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