My New Year’s Revolution

This is a poem I wrote some time ago. It’s still a bit rough around the edges but I decided I’d share it anyway.

Everyone is talking of resolutions, but I think
Next year I am going to have a revolution.
I don’t plan to overthrow the government
Or to demonstrate in discontent.
And I won’t consider what it meant
That Trump became a president.
Instead I am going to revolutionise my own heart
And bring myself a fresh new start.

Because instead of resolutions
I will have a revolution.

I will read all the books I bought
So long ago somewhere abroad.
Finally I’ll fight alongside Enjolras,
and Marius and Jean Valjean.
I’ll have a Russian winter with a doctor called Shivago
And I’ll hang with Harry Potter (like I did ten years ago).
I will read only what delights me
I will find joy in the pages that find me.

Because instead of resolutions
I will have a revolution.

I will work, I will give it all I’ve got
I will give my best and take a shot.
But I will not give more than that
This time I will not drive myself so mad.
Just this once, for one year only
I will be ME so wholly.
Just this once, I will lean back.
Just this once, I’ve got my back.

Because instead of resolutions
I will have a revolution.

My own greatest oppressor am I myself.
The dictator of me could be no one else.
But I want to overthrow this government
And demonstrate in discontent.
And I will not be afraid
Of life and love and the things I said.
I will do what makes me smile
I will leave what has made me cry.
I am going to revolutionise my own heart
And bring myself a fresh new start.

Because instead of resolutions
I will have a revolution.

 

 

 

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Blogmas (Day 16) – «It’s Going To Be Okay»

Today I was initially going to write about my Christmas shopping, but alas I left my purse at home this afternoon, and although the Swiss are very generous, not even my boss would let me have stuff for free. But that’s okay, because this time last year I was feeling a bit nostalgic and I wrote a poem about Honduras and the book shop I’m working at. Maybe it’s being around books that always makes me miss things, but I’m in that same sort of state at the moment, and I hope you like my poem.

I miss a lot of things.

I miss going to work for that first time last year.
I miss the smell of smoke and sweat and cardboard boxes in the hallway.
I miss the way my feet hurt every night.

I’m still working there now.

But it’s not the same.
It’s not the «I never want to leave this place.»
It’s more.
It’s less.

My feet still hurt.

I miss seeing Honduras from above.
For the first time.
I miss the feeling of «It’s going to be okay.»
Because it really was, you know?

I miss the song
Chim-Chim-Chiminike!
All day long.
I wanted to listen to it forever.
I didn’t want to lose it.
That song.
It was mine.

I miss the voices.
«Hola Gringa!»
The way they could carress my name.
Every Hello came with a hug.
Every hug lasted a lifetime.
Like the song.

Everybody hated the song btw.

I miss the dancing.
I hate dancing
But I was taught to love it.
Hands touching hands.
Lips touching lips.
It was a fairy tale.

But a slutty one.

I miss that side of me.
The «It’s going to be okay» side.
Because it really was, you know?

«One day I’m going to marry you.»
«Okay.»
It’s a promise
That we’ll never keep.
But we mean it
Nevertheless.

I miss eating
Until I need new pants.

«When are you leaving?»
«Never.»

I miss
Myself.

Just a little.
The me that knew
That it was going to be okay.

Because it really was, you know?

Lots of Love from the Roots of my Heart!
xxx

Again, I lost track of what Anna’ll be writing about tonight. Let’s have a look together, shall we? Her blog is right here under http://www.tinytrinket.wordpress.com

 

Blogmas: It Really Was

I miss a lot of things.

I miss going to work for that first time last year.
I miss the smell of smoke and sweat and cardboard boxes in the hallway.
I miss the way my feet hurt every night.

I’m still working there now.

But it’s not the same.
It’s not the “I never want to leave this place”.
It’s more.
It’s less.

My feet still hurt.

I miss seeing Honduras from above.
For the first time.
I miss the feeling of “It’s going to be okay.”
Because it really was, you know?

I miss the song
Chim-Chim-Chiminike!
All day long.
I wanted to listen to it forever.
I didn’t want to lose it.
That song.
It was mine.

I miss the voices.
“Hola Gringa!”
The way they could carress my name.
Every hello came with a hug.
Every hug lasted a lifetime.
Like the song.

Everybody hated the song btw.

I miss the dancing.
I hate dancing
But I was taught to love it.
Hands touching hands.
Lips touching lips.
It was a fairy tale.

But a slutty one.

I miss that side of me.
The “It’s going to be okay” side.
Because it really was, you know?

“One day I’m going to marry you.”
“Okay.”
It’s a promise
That we’ll never keep.
But we mean it
Nevertheless.

I miss eating
Until I need new pants.

“When are you leaving?”
“Never.”

I miss
Myself.

Just a little.
The me that knew
That it was going to be okay.

Because it really was, you know?

DSC06334

Blogmas: Nostalgia (273 days)

Today I just want to share with you this amazing poem a certain Natalie (www.natalieslovelyblog.com) wrote about her exchange year in France. I’m missing Honduras quite a lot right now and reading this makes me feel better. It’s not that christmassy. Well, a bit maybe. I hope you like it!

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