I'm not sure if you all are big fans of poetry, and as I recently mentioned here, I have a love-hate (but mostly love) relationship with it myself. I've been reading & doing research on a lot of poetry for school recently, and came across a poem in one of my texts that I'd like to share with you guys today. Its about love, but have faith in the fact that I am not the cliche type, so I promise you won't want to roll your eyes from all the mushy gushiness.
My clumsiest dear, whose hands shipwreck vases,
At whose quick touch all glasses chip and ring,
Whose palms are bulls in china, burs in linen,
And have no cunning with any soft thing
Except all ill-at-ease fidgeting people:
The refugee uncertain at the door
You make at home; deftly you steady
The drunk clambering on his undulant floor.
Unpredictable dear, the taxi drivers' terror,
Shrinking from far headlights pale as a dime
Yet leaping before apoplectic streetcars-
Misfit in any space. And never on time.
A wrench in clocks and the solar system. Only
With words and people and love you move at ease;
In traffic of wit expertly maneuver
And keep us, all devotion, at your knees.
Forgetting your coffee spreading on our flannel,
Your lipstick grinning on our coat,
So gaily in love's unbreakable heaven
Our souls on glory of split bourbon float.
Be with me, darling, early and late. Smash glasses-
I will study wry music for your sake.
For should your hands drop white and empty
All the toys of the world would break.
-John Frederick Nims
I just really like that a realistic love is depicted, not something unattainable. A love that exists because of the flaws. So perhaps our imperfections should not be criticized, but instead praised. And maybe one should not be burdened with the perpetual stress of looking and being and acting put together all the time, because isn't it the imperfections that set us apart from the crowd? Imperfections make us who we are. Imperfections give someone something 'real' to love. Just a couple thoughts for your Wednesday. Have a happy one. xo