Yrsa Daley-Ward's Blog, page 14

March 11, 2014

thiswillnotlast:

what love isn’tIt is not a five star stay. It...



thiswillnotlast:



what love isn’t

It is not a five star stay. It is not compliments and it is never ever flattery. It is fact. It is tough, can be hard
and it is definitely not diamonds.
It is solid. It is not sweet but always nutritious, always herb. always salt. Sometimes grit.
It is now and till the end. It is never a slither, never a little
it is a full serving
it is much…too much and real
never pretty or clean. It stinks, you can smell it coming, it is weight…it is weight and it is too heavy to feel good sometimes
…it is discomfort, it is not what the films say. Only songs
get it right
it is irregular
it is difficult
and always, always
surprising.




Yrsa Daley-Ward


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Published on March 11, 2014 14:17

March 9, 2014

"You told me I seemed haunted.
It was 3am and you could still smell the storm clouds under my..."

“You told me I seemed haunted.

It was 3am and you could still smell the storm clouds under my skin.

You can’t quell depression by making love.

But we tried.

But we tried,

oh, we did.”

- Yrsa Daley-Ward:  
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Published on March 09, 2014 14:31

March 7, 2014

Just wanted to express that I enjoy your work very much dear, like a sigh in the middle of the page.

That means the world coming from you. Enjoying your poetry all night.

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Published on March 07, 2014 10:51

March 2, 2014

"Telling myself,
‘If you’re afraid to write it, it’s a good sign.’
I suppose you know..."

“Telling myself,

‘If you’re afraid to write it, it’s a good sign.’

I suppose you know you’re writing the truth when you’re terrified.”

- Yrsa Daley-Ward: Telling myself: 
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Published on March 02, 2014 23:15

"我很高兴见到你

i am happy to have met you

我很高兴认识你

i am happy to have known you

但最后, 没有你我更快乐。

but in..."

我很高兴见到你



i am happy to have met you



我很高兴认识你



i am happy to have known you



但最后, 没有你我更快乐。



but in the end, i am happier without you.



- 再见 (goodbye)
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Published on March 02, 2014 21:25

February 26, 2014

"Boredom


You can fit two thousand four hundred and ninety six
tiny letter a’s on an a4 page
based..."

Boredom





You can fit two thousand four hundred and ninety six

tiny letter a’s on an a4 page

based on fitting four of them firmly into the space of a

centimetre square.

Dad will say, “That’s diligence for you.”

Everyone else will call it a waste of time.



You can fit a whole tube of Smarties in your mouth

while dressing your little brother up in your Sunday best.

Grandma will laugh at the boy in the dress.

Granddad will nearly hit someone.

Your brother will be sent upstairs to change

head bowed in shame.

No one will notice the Smarties.



Mum says 56 bad words on the phone to Jamaica.

She is not impressed when you tell her so.

“Keep out of adult conversations,” she warns,

her mouth growing tight.

The pastor makes twenty-four references to hell

in the sermon at church and forgets to talk

about love. Granddad falls asleep.



If your bible has pictures

you should colour them in and count

how many men in the church wear white socks and black shoes.

Count the bitten fingernails and

how many people cry silently during prayer.



Count the number of cars that afternoon before your mother,

tired and lovely, pulls up on the pavement to collect you.

Count how many people shake their head

at her red nails, her tight jeans.

She looks like a star and they’re jealous.



You can fit the word lonely

four hundred and sixteen times

on the back of that same piece of paper.

Dad will say, “Don’t be silly

your brother will be out of hospital soon.”

Mum will be too stressed to talk.

You will go to live at Grandma’s, spending days

drinking Rooibos out of eggs cups,

studying God’s word and watching the sun.



You will learn to fear

The Most High

also

count how many times the

King James Bible uses the words, thee, thou and thy.

Keep a proper tally. Granddad can play any song on the harmonica.

Test him. He likes to be tested

(until he doesn’t know the answer.)

Then he will get angry

and say things he doesn’t mean.



There are one hundred and twenty seven roses

on the wallpaper in your new room.

There were more than that but you picked some away.

Your brother has been gone now for two months straight and

nobody will tell you anything.

Pink painkillers look like Smarties and

children will be children

so you escaped a beating…just.



Count how many tear drops it takes to make a cup of tea and

how many family friends are praying for you.

There are sixty-four red grapes on the bunch that someone brought.

Eat one after the other, really fast

without stopping.

Maybe you can visit the hospital too.

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Published on February 26, 2014 06:47

February 21, 2014

Photo



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Published on February 21, 2014 15:22

February 17, 2014

"Women who were brought up devout and fearful
Get stirred, like anyone else.
Want men. Want
other..."

“Women who were brought up devout and fearful

Get stirred, like anyone else.

Want men. Want

other women. Stink under the arms at the end of

the day. Get

that all too familiar mix of fear and discontent

in the night. Want to do the things

that they ‘Must Not Do.’

Those dirty, bloody attractive things.”

- Yrsa Daley-Ward: Those things, by Yrsa Daley-Ward 
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Published on February 17, 2014 05:14

"Hungry. Stomach screaming hungry, I worry about the conversation we haven’t had yet. You know, this..."

“Hungry. Stomach screaming hungry, I worry about the conversation we haven’t had yet. You know, this one. I will order pudding after dinner and chew and swallow without tasting anything much. You… you will chain-smoke and drink three different beers and we will talk out how to make the best of things despite the year and it’s shitty weather. We are tired of dressing in layers just in case and leaving wet umbrellas in other people’s houses. Who can live like that? On the day, your voice will be too bright and cheerful, the way it always is when you hurt the most. We’re always trying to make everything okay. Fine. Well - and whatever shit we tell our friends instead of awful. Grieving. Barely breathing. Come, let us talk with our closed up throats, crushed hearts and wet eyes. Quickly, because when you get that metallic taste on your tongue and teeth it means trouble and when I get that light feeling in the space between the back of my eyes and my skull it means hell.”

-

Impending Dialogue - Freewrite


Yrsa Daley-Ward


(via thiswillnotlast)

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Published on February 17, 2014 05:02

"eating magic beans and
dancing till dawn froze me
playing with rocks and snow
just made me hard and..."

“eating magic beans and

dancing till dawn froze me

playing with rocks and snow

just made me hard and cold.”

- Yrsa Daley-Ward ‘temporary measures’
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Published on February 17, 2014 04:43

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