The Feeling Of Infinity∞

Thirty One//Poetry🎀

Gideon
(✪㉨✪)

Poetry, a subject I never really wanted too have anything to do with it.

Sarah was having this project,composing a poem and she was urgently in need of my assistance with it. She's currently studying theatre art.

Ever since we were much younger, acting has actually been her thing. She always had this thing for drama,this thing for acting I never really understood back then and until now. To be honest, I've also considered it to be a complete waste of time to even be studying theatre art or how to be an actor or theatre director when it's already something we do perfectly. In clear sense,we don't need a degree to act sick to miss work or to be hypocrites when we preach what we do not practice.

Though I'm not a fan of her choice of study,it doesn't stop me from helping her. I'm currently her biggest fan(not like the kinda cheering type of fan),like the brotherly type.

She's kinda managed to compose a poem herself,she just needs my help in  making one or two changes that would ensure that's it one step closer to perfection.

***

Just before she starts reading what she's managed to draft down,she raises the issue of the tittle. I couldn't help but argue with her about it.

'75' that's what she calls it. It sounds lame. It not the kinda iconic catchy heading that would capture the attention of any audience,not even a fly would hear it and would stop it's buzzing to listen to it.

"So is it some kinda love shit?" I'm already getting bored before the whole thing even starts.
"I'm not sure but maybe you'll find out if you patiently take a sit and listen to it!" She dems her eyes as she talks, giving me the look that said I'm gonna stub you very soon if you don't shut up.
"Okay." My hands are all raised to the air as I take my sit on the couch. She walks to the front. The TV is just behind her, she's directly facing me, standing in front of me.

Just before starting she turns on the DVD player and begins to play this background music.

She sighs, takes a deep exhale, then starts the reading.

At this point I'm aware of the agony I'm about to venture into, just prayed for everything to be quick. I just hope and pray the lines she has written ain't that much.

"Seventy-five,

I'm nothing but an Old woman with nothing but loud voices called memories.
I sit in my chair made of wood,ever knitting to pass time.
Dressed in the agony that comes with age and left with the mourning that comes with the pain.

During my time,I use to be clothed with beauty and I thought my days like that would forever remain.

When I was a child,my mother taught me three important lessons,
Life,death and love.

Life, a craft we were never taught in school or any place of learning but still yet we know much about what it entails.

Death, the villain in every story. Something that levels all plane,has no regards for wealth,size or ideology. It is the perfect creation of life,the perfect antihero but an important entity.

Aside from the fact it captures all our love one's as prisoners and snatches those we hold dear,it also captures our adversaries. It is the perfect even  agent, though unfair but yet it levels all sides. We just seem to notice the flaws rather than the good side.

When we come to perfect reasoning with ourselves,we get to realize that if everyone from yesterday walked in the path of today,where would those from tomorrow walk on?

The gravestones at the graveyard are reminder that those from yesterday's tale drank from the cup we all will be drinking from,we soon will be a part of the book called history.

Death is the perfect mirror that shows us who we where,who we are and who we shall be.

Love, what more can be said about it? The first feeling we felt from our very moment of birth,
And last at our moment of death.
Her kisses so gentle,yet so deadly.
She is only consider something of importance when she is felt towards the opposite gender.

First felt in a mother's warm embrace when pulled out to behold the day's light. Our endless lust only shows her presence in the embrace of our lovers.

Ever constant in the lectures of our fathers, godfathers and grandfather's but still yet only important when false romance is concerned.

We've drank of her whiskey a thousand times,more countless than the grains of the sand with our comrades and brothers in arms.
We only pay attention to the sweetness of her wine only in the den of our faithless mistresses.

As the woman I am now, the only possession I've come to realize all I'll be taking to my grave is,all the knowledge that I've acquired in my course of living.

I lay in agony, waiting for the warm embrace of death, waiting for her ever gentle kisses of love and hopefully waiting to lay on her ever soft bed called the grave."

I applaud.

It was longer than I even imagined it but we'll wasn't that bad.

I had entirely no issue with what she had said but then found it unfair for her to praise death and spitefully downgrade love.

"I'm astonished by your work but then I can't seem to wrap my head around the sweet praise around the death aspect of things."

"Death is the most underrated change agent,I just tried to portray the true beauty of it." Says smiling.

I wouldn't want to argue with that but then,it's also the world's perfect hurt agent.

"So any remarks?" I'm not sure my remarks and changes to what she's already done is needed at this point. She done a pretty good job already.
"None really."
"The entire thing is well drafted and written down, just that I don't like the much emphasis placed on death and underrating in love." I add.

"So what's love to you?" I wasn't gonna answer that.
"So you're part of the gang that only  think it's a relevant matter when  you feel the opposite attraction?" She's wearing an upset face.
"Nah!"
"I'd rather not talk about that right now!"

"So you're accepting a cowardly defeat?" I wouldn't dare engage in an argument with her knowing I'd easily lose to her.

I rose from where I sat and attempt to walk away.

She blabs about her views still emphasising on the love issue.