Darling Julia...

I'm just in from the flix with Pete. There wasn't much choice so we ended up going to see The Box. Terrible film. It did, rather cack-handedly, attempt to make us feel something at various junctures. Fear, sadness, empathy, confusion. It only managed the latter... oh and apathy.

Anyway, once home, I remembered that Maggie Philbin had tweeted about wanting some suggestions for a good poetry book. I instantly remembered Julia Darling and tootled off to her site. There, I read a couple of poems and then went to read her wonderfully quirky blog. Of course, the last few entries were written only days before she died and within only a few words I felt so much more than that silly film could make me feel. Even while dying, she managed to make me giggle, wonder, worry, etc. I cried. For the loss of Julia, whom I had the pleasure of meeting several times, but also for the waste of my days, weeks, months and years. She wrote, "I hate cancer. It's taken me away from such life."

And here I am, wasting mine. Fate is cruel. Cancer it's crueller sibling. Bah to both of you.

Here's a gorgeous little poem by Julia...

Small Beauties

Let the milk boil over
The half-filled tins of baked beans sit on the table,
Children scribble on the walls with crayons,
Clothes heap in riotous mountains.

I am reading a book.

Let the bells ring, bills lie unopened,
Doors slam open then bash shut, letters unwritten,
Plants unwatered, bread get hard as a rock.

I am thinking about the moon.

Let the bank get nasty, the grass grow high,
Children decorate themselves with lipstick,
Build houses within houses in every room,
Pee on the floor, pull dolls' heads off.

I am looking for a door.

Oh come here you small beauties,
Together we will run across the town moor,
With waving fingers, running for our lives.

You are too small, and too beautiful to ignore.

That and lots more can be found here: http://www.juliadarling.co.uk/print/smallbeaut.html