#true stories: poems

[mournfulroses]

Margaret Atwood, from True Stories: Poems; "Postcard," originally published in 1981

[aesethewitch]

When I was a kid, we moved into a house that had a huge lilac tree out front. It was mostly rotten, and it needed to be taken down before it fell. It took a while, but eventually, it was gone.

Mostly. A couple years later, little lilac babies popped out of the ground in its place. My mom was determined to get rid of them, because she'd planted a beautiful flower garden there, and the lilac trees would overshadow and kill the whole garden. I insisted on saving at least a few saplings. She said fine, but I had to dig them out and put them in pots myself.

So, I did. I spent days digging little lilac bushes out of the ground and putting them into pots. Some couldn't be saved, but some could. When all was said and done, I had five brand-new lilac saplings. Seven or eight years old, and it was my absolute pride and joy.

Three died due to sun scorching, severe drought that no amount of watering could save, and perhaps just being moved from their place in the ground. But two survived, and I was awfully proud of them! I'd go out and talk to them every single day. I watered them by hand and made sure they were fertilized properly. I learned all about their favored environments, and I was determined to make sure they lived.

One of my mom's friends saw what I was doing with the lilacs. She asked if she could have one to put in her backyard, and I agreed on the condition that she take very, very good care of it.

It's now fucking enormous. I'm talking ten feet tall and bursting with beautiful purple flowers every spring. My mom still gets updates each year as they start to bloom, which she forwards to me. And all I can think is, "That's my friend! Thriving some twenty years on, there it is."

The other tree nearly died, too. It lived in a pot for far, far too long. I wanted to plant it somewhere in my parents' yard, but my mom was reluctant. Eventually, we agreed to put it in the far back garden. It grew okay for many years, despite the shade, but in all these years, it's never bloomed.

Last year, the massive tree casting massive shadows over the lilac and the garden cracked in half and fell. It tumbled into the garden, crushing part of the nearby shed and destroying a few plants beneath it.

It missed my lilac by inches.

The clean-up is long done. The rest of the tree has been cut down, and my lilac has full sunlight for the first time in fifteen years. It won't bloom this year, I know. But it's got new shoots up. It's taller than ever. I spent half an hour a few weeks ago praising it for surviving all this time, dreaming about its future and telling it how I believe it'll become the tall beauty it's always been meant to be.

I think next year, I'll see flowers.

[dumblr]

You might not have been my first love but you were the love that made all other loves seem irrelevant.

[wlwdaydreamms]

we grieve the future we will never have. we grieve the memories we will never make. we grieve the person we will never marry. i know that i am making the right decision by leaving but that doesnt make the grief easier. i am at peace with my own company but that doesnt mean i dont miss the comfort of having someone by my side through the ups and downs of life.

[sstargrllll]

I keep seeing you in my dreams.

[randik-86]

The probability of finding someone like you was improbable,

You saw me when no one else did,

Nurturing my broken soul back into one piece,

This beautifully conceived love that we share,

An emotional affinity that is unbreakable,

Will link our souls forever...

©️randik86

[onaperduamedee]

Anasai of Ryddingwood. Each of her poems was written as an elegy. This was for her father. She left instructions; it can be read, but should not be spoken out loud, except when it was right to do so. She did not explain when it would be right to do so.

[words-and-coffee]

Is this really your fate, to enter poetry and become transparent?

Margaret Atwood, True Stories: True Stories

[albertstrustie]

I wanted to tell him, I’d burn down the world for him if I could. I wanted to tell him that I would follow him anywhere and everywhere, without question. I wanted to tell him that all I wanted was for him to be happy and that I’d give up my soul, to see that happen.

[nandi4everokay]

[vivienne-sndr-blog]

Do you know why I love you so much?

You saw and reawakened all those good things in me that I had lost and forgotten over the course of my life because of other people. I was able to look at myself... and I found my old self again. I liked your compliments. I felt so special and loved around you I couldn't believed someone seen me like that.

[mournfulroses]

Margaret Atwood, from True Stories: Poems; "Use," originally published in 1981

[caostalgia]

Todavía no borro tu número, todavía espero que me llames.

Alexander Alay.

[dumblr]

I love you. But I don't think we love each other in the same way. And I think keeping you near me would destroy me.

[apekshanoexpectation]

Just so, that next day

[sstargrllll]

You my love,

are immortal in my heart.