Poems by Ophelou

I cannot put it down

 

I cannot put it down 

The pasture that lives in my chest 

But it has become easier 

Since I started calling it a pasture

 

~Ophelou

And language limits us as well

 

Like “I am sad”

And I can tell you I’m sad
But I could also paint you a picture
Show you a deep red surrounded by rings of black
Or write you a poem
That illustrates the extents of my grief
Likened to tragedies like the fall of achilles or the fall of the icecream you bought to cheer yourself up
Or write you a song,
I could even probably make you a clay pot of what this dusty feeling in my chest means to me

That would be better
Than me telling you I’m sad

 

~Ophelou

Something you didn't even ask for

 

The thing about doing something new 

Shaking the hand of a surprise opportunity 

Is that it makes you incredibly vulnerable 

Because here is something you did not even know you wanted 

And here are you 

And will you be enough 

And when it doesn’t go your way 

You blame yourself 

And rip at your edges 

And your lungs cry

And from somewhere inside you comes an exhausted scream 

Over something you didn’t ask for in the first place

 

~Ophelou

I have a Sweater

 

All smiles and and running commentary 

On how life is oh so precious 

All gleeful shrieks 

And graceful joys

And not falling for life’s trap 

Happiness is something 

Like a sweater you’re supposed to 

have 

 

But I’ve not yet been able 

To purchase this vintage wool 

I've had some scraps 

A neckline here 

A sleeve there 

The shops don’t sell in full 

 

Maybe it’s my temperament 

Or maybe it’s my credit 

Maybe I can’t pay 

So they don’t even offer it 

But maybe I can make one 

I realised on a lonesome day 

I have some yarn 

A couple needles 

Now I just need a way 

 

I’ve checked online no luck 

Just generic ramblings of 

How one day you wake up to find 

A perfect yellow sweater 

That’s bundled you right up 

 

No one’s given me a roadmap though 

It’s something I can’t steal 

But then maybe it’s a process 

Like a hearty winters meal 

 

Like noticing the warmth 

Of your blankets in the dark 

Like how you feel when babies 

Sit there smiling at the park 

 

Maybe it’s a lot 

Of little loops you knit 

A thousand clicks of needles 

And one day a full sweater fits 

 

And you have to mend it often 

You lose it sometimes too 

But a lot of little actions 

Means protection from the flu 

 

Happiness is worth the upkeep 

It shields us from the rusty knife 

Of worries when we say 

That we have made something 

To keep us warm through life. 

 

~ Ophelou

A million and three

 

It is only a weird sort of liminality

When unease is the only thing I seem to have spooned into my mouth 

Because it seems like I’m made of it 

Or is it the grace of my creator

That has given me a secret power 

What people don’t understand about anxiety is that it may seem to wash over you 

Crashing into every thought 

Wiping through every cell 

But it is also like seeing an exposed bone 

In the thick of muscle and coagulation

Is a reminder of what you are made of 

And the open nerves of existence 

Are raw 

And they are sensitive 

But inside the hurt and the pain that doesn’t seem to go away 

Is still you 

There is just something wrong 

 

But this also 

Belongs to you 

 

~Ophelou