Daisies and Rainbows
Title: Daisies and Rainbows
What: original poetry
Rating: PG for one word
Words: 207
Summary: Why guys probably shouldn't write about daisies and rainbows. Published in Wellington Girls' College student run creative magazine Trouser August 6th 2007, here is a scan.
Sample: I'll never get her back. And is it any wonder?
“Don’t you ever write
about daisies and rainbows?”
you ask, after my millionth
poem/song/short story/novel
about being dumped by my girlfriend
and how much I still love her
and how much I miss her
and how much it hurts that
I’ll never get her back.
(And is it any wonder?
At this rate, I should probably
cut my fringe over my eyes
and take photos in the mirror
and post them on MySpace.)
Unfortunately rainbows are
a rarity in this Wellington winter
(not that you’d know,
JAFA that you are)
and I can’t remember when
the last time I saw one was.
It was out the bus window
(most things are out the bus window)
so I couldn’t run to the end
in the hope that it would make me
richer than Venetia’s chocolate cake.
Daisies, on the other hand.
Tough little buggers.
Dad mows them down one day
and the next day,
they’re back for more.
I used to be like that.
I still give that impression, anyway.
It’s just that no one notices
how every time I spring back,
I lose a petal or two.
(until finally, the inevitable:
she loves me not.)
Maybe this is why guys
probably shouldn’t write
about daisies and rainbows.
NB: JAFA = Just Another Fucking Aucklander
written for Marianne, the JAFA in question, who had to ask. :)
What: original poetry
Rating: PG for one word
Words: 207
Summary: Why guys probably shouldn't write about daisies and rainbows. Published in Wellington Girls' College student run creative magazine Trouser August 6th 2007, here is a scan.
Sample: I'll never get her back. And is it any wonder?
“Don’t you ever write
about daisies and rainbows?”
you ask, after my millionth
poem/song/short story/novel
about being dumped by my girlfriend
and how much I still love her
and how much I miss her
and how much it hurts that
I’ll never get her back.
(And is it any wonder?
At this rate, I should probably
cut my fringe over my eyes
and take photos in the mirror
and post them on MySpace.)
Unfortunately rainbows are
a rarity in this Wellington winter
(not that you’d know,
JAFA that you are)
and I can’t remember when
the last time I saw one was.
It was out the bus window
(most things are out the bus window)
so I couldn’t run to the end
in the hope that it would make me
richer than Venetia’s chocolate cake.
Daisies, on the other hand.
Tough little buggers.
Dad mows them down one day
and the next day,
they’re back for more.
I used to be like that.
I still give that impression, anyway.
It’s just that no one notices
how every time I spring back,
I lose a petal or two.
(until finally, the inevitable:
she loves me not.)
Maybe this is why guys
probably shouldn’t write
about daisies and rainbows.
NB: JAFA = Just Another Fucking Aucklander
written for Marianne, the JAFA in question, who had to ask. :)