You have such a talent!
A talent?
A talent for what?
Anyone can ramble away
in bitter words,
but that’s not a talent,
it ain’t special.
It takes more
than a sarcastic comment
to be a poet
I’m just a blabbering owl,
who saw a chance.
I told
way too many men
that I love them –
they never questioned how much,
so I just shushed
about the quantity
and fingered
words in sand
of a pure lie –
“I love you”.
They ran to me,
led by an instinct,
like little kids run to their mother
in need of reassurance
indescribable momentum,
except the fact
they weren’t children
and I had no intentions
of directing them
Those stories ended
before they even could begin
and I never cared enough
to explain
I never bought them
Christmas presents.
There is no such thing as Santa
and no such thing
as the love of an owl.
Judge me tomorrow,
today we are still pretending
to be happy.

– Chatty Owl –

52 Replies to “LOVE OF AN OWL”

  1. Wow…this is a fantastic moving piece. I can feel the emotion resonating through it with so much power!
    “They ran to me, led by an instinct, like little kids run to their mother
    in need of reassurance and indescribable momentum, except the fact
    that they weren’t children and I had no intentions of directing them
    away.” That’s my favorite part. It is so true. Men always come to women expecting to be coddled.
    You are a wonderful poet! Keep up the amazing work!

    1. You should know, that appreciation of others and kind words like yours are my biggest motivation to not give up writing. And I had doubts way too many times… So biggest thank you!

    2. Not a problem! You are fantastic and I know those same feelings. Seeing people respond to my work makes me want to jump and cheer for joy. And I have you to thank for that! You were one of the first people to comment on my posts. So thank you!

  2. My dear Owl,

    I have had the pleasure to read this several times over the course of today. However, it is definitely more pleasurable reading you after work is done. I have to designate a specific time to be the “bewitching hour”.

    Once again, I am moved by your writings and talent. You had me at umm, hello? πŸ™‚

    “I gave you a taste of myself and made you crawl for more”. Yes.

    1. Flattered and honoured. Really. The thing with me is, I write, I post without editing (to make it as natural as possible) and then when I get back to it after few days, I want to scream in disappointment and annoyance. Usually I hate what I write. So when others appreciate it, it nearly brings tears to my face. For that Id like to thank you.

  3. These raw impressions of men and love, may prove to be of interest, as worthy warnings, jade trophies exulted by some, but they will not be permitted a spot at this side unguarded, to suck warmth from this bed, and marrow from these bones.

    Actually, for it’s bare, dermal-peeled ‘truth’ of inner workings, that run is more an artful stroke of talent, than anything ever penned here.
    Perhaps, fresh experience helps it a bit, or maybe it’s just the inclination to glean pain, pleasure, spark or void from a quick stitch in perspective, regardless of the more collectively-synched objective subject in view.

    What would you run to? Boldness, illusions, like privacy, unknowns, mystery and security held with pat secrecy – such a state hardly seems to favor much motion, but it’s a little difficult to ascertain whether it should without it.

    1. Thanks lady. πŸ™‚ well, Im sure you could do the same. Even handing that book back to the man in the book store the other day was ballsy! Dont underestimate yourself πŸ™‚

  4. It is not your talent that is interesting, there are so many talented people. It is what you try to crack up from your inside that is interesting. And the fact, you don’t even know what it is yourself, fumbling about to get it, gives it all a merry spice. πŸ˜‰

    1. It is a part of the process to doubt. If I can see it you certainly can, no one know You better than you. It is just the difficulty of being in the middle of it. You need to get yourself into perspective, try to sneak on yourself. There is surely something valuable there, Im absolutely sure (remember im picky too) πŸ˜‰

    2. Yes, I definitely know and remember your picky qualities. I guess its slightly surprising to see you seeing what I dont. But Im trying. Really.

    3. The bother now will be swapped with a complete relieve a arousing joy. It will be so rewarding for you but hard at first.You must free your self!

    4. Yes, that is what Im here for! πŸ™‚ And I I know what I am talking about, but you have to make your own choices and actions Im afraid to say πŸ˜‰

    5. No, not at all, Im just informing you I will delete my account. When you have a contact somehow its polite to inform about drastic actions so the other part may not have to figure out what happened. πŸ™‚

  5. The talent isn’t writing “I love you”, certainly an easy task that automatically evokes rainbows and lollipops … The talent is to write “I love you” in a bitter context and to back it up. The blabbering owl recognizes and appreciates her tools of her trade. Then to end with some fake hope, that’s the stuff talented poets are made of… As long as we are pretending, you can accept compliment whole heartedly πŸ™‚

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