This Is Not An Eloquent Post

Written by Rivers of Tarmac


This isn’t eloquent either. Image // CC EVA Foam Numbers

This is not an eloquent post. This is not a grand speech. This is not an important issue. This is not huge. This is not special. But this is real.

This is me, more or less. Sometimes more, often less. I am living and I am breathing. My heart is beating my cells are dying. My hair is growing, my nails are growing. My wisdom teeth are coming through. I am a human being. I eat and sleep and blog, though not always in that order. I laugh and cry. I hide in dark rooms with the blankets over my head. I scream into pillows and scratch myself. I read books and draw pictures. I send long meaningful texts and get “k” in reply. I tell terrible jokes. I cheat at monopoly and argue with my siblings. I offer condolences and tea when things go wrong. I fail to use correct grammar. I make mistakes. I lose things. I lose people.

I quote song lyrics at everyone; all of the time. I make people cry.

I fall in love.

Numbers are important. The time, the date. The bus service. The number of sunsets I’ve seen. The number of years I’ve survived. The number of the scales and the number of kisses on a text. The number of friends and the number of miles. The number of scars. The number of mistakes. The difference between one and two. The difference between one and two million. The number of people on the planet. The number of people who can make my day with a glance. The number of times I’ve smiled.

This is me and I am you. You understand me and you understand numbers. You understand science and you understand maths. You understand poets and musicians, artists both. You understand scars. You understand rivers and mountains and trees. You understand beggars and you understand kings. You understand me. We understand each other. We do not understand love, or life, or the universe.

The universe is huge. Quasars are huge and numbers are huge and galaxies are huge. And love, laughter, fear, and tears are all huge. We are huge. We are stars. We are the stars and the smiles, the laughter and the regrets, and the pain and the kisses, the butterflies too. We are real.

This is not an eloquent post. This is nothing at all. This is an idea. This is you. This is us. This is me.

And I am, irrevocably, alive.

Rivers’ stream of consciousness writing is seen as a dedication to life. She makes use of a specific technique here and it’s incredibly poignant to bringing out the most in her words. In her narrative, she begins small and speaks of the insignificant things that won’t change the grand course of the universe. But then her thoughts get larger and they begin to encompass the entire world in one small chunk. Running out of built-up steam in the end and closing at the correct moment. We love it. If you enjoyed Rivers’ piece, make sure you check out ‘A Boy Who Fell In Love‘. 

Thoughts On Forever

Written by Topaz


Beautiful golden afternoons…
Image Courtesy of Irene Suchocki

if you ask me,
forever seems like an awfully long time.

forever consists of so many countless
slow lazy sunbeams stretching out
and bringing in new-born mornings
with tiny crocuses poking heads up wondering
if it is time to wake up and greet the world
so many countless
beautiful golden afternoons with dappled leaves
casting shadows on forest floors
and booming laughter bubbling out of shaking shivering bellies
until waterfalls of tears are streaming down red rosy cheeks
so many countless
inky midnight blacks when the shadows awaken
and the stars remembers what it means to fly
when the moon serves as a cradle for angels
and it is mandatory to spend the night dreaming
instead of living

so many countless little things
that add up to such big beautiful things

forever seems like just about the longest time there is, I think –
and yet somehow, even though all I know
is a hasty smudged green-inked name
scrawled on the soft skin of my hand
even though all I know
is an electrified first glance and a
soft sweet conversation
even though all I know
is that I can still feel your fiery eyes
burning into mine, still hear your
quiet voice echoing in my mind, still taste your
unvoiced fears and dreams and promises on my tongue –

even though I do not know anything at all
about you or me or us,


somehow I think the sun’s rays and crocuses
might bloom a little lovelier;
the laughter and tears
might bubble a little happier;
the stars and moon
might fly a little higher;
and everything that makes up forever –
well, I think it might not be so long
if it were to be spent
with you.

New contributor Topaz has written us a sumptuous poem on the intricacy of nature and the innocence of love in her poem, ‘Thoughts on Forever’. Her stream of consciousness writing is reflected in the poem’s form and style, which she says was inspired by initial thoughts on the complex nature of the word ‘forever’. The free form allows her to explore the theme and provide us with a deeper connection to the piece – we think it works wonderfully.