2024 Poetry Wrap Up - For Love & Motherhood
Top Poetry Pieces I Wrote in 2024
Poetry has been a relatively new path of self-discovery and expression for me, and one I delved into here on Substack in 2024. I hope you enjoy these five hand-picked poems, written by me as a thank-you to my readers and to wrap up a wonderful first year on Substack in 2024.
Darling Buds of May
My sweet darling buds of May,
Newness and softness to be protected and cherished,
Kept safe, sheltered and loved.
Wishing you’d forever stay this way.
I am whole, complete, and fully alive
When I am with my darling buds of May.
Yet chaos surrounds us and consumes us.
But one glance, one hug, one stroke of your cheek,
Brings peace back into the fold.
My darling buds of May,
Innocent, precious, and not fully formed.
Delicate petals learning to break free from their tight hold,
Waiting, nourishing, clinging to the branch.
And then they open.
Slowly yet suddenly. Gradually yet all at once.
My darling blooms of May, oh, how you have grown.
Buds you will be no more and never will be again.
But the beauty and love you unfold will forever remain.
Last Baby
I pull you in closer,
though I desperately need more sleep.
Your tiny fingers trace my skin,
it’s my sustenance and warmth you seek.
The night is ours and ours alone,
as you snuggle close to my chest.
I should savour these moments,
they won’t last forever,
but boy do I need more rest.
Sleep is a distant memory,
but knowing I have you near,
is all I could ever ask for,
my last baby,
I love you, my dear.
A Love So Deep
Love they say runs deep.
My body aches from the density of it
grounding me to them
and the world beneath our feet.
I drag my love for them with me,
sustaining me wherever I go.
Even when physically apart,
my love for them always lingers
and pulls me back into their arms.
I am no longer an ‘I’.
Not when they crowd my thoughts,
and envelop every inch of my being.
I cannot be apart from them,
physically, emotionally or mentally,
yet I am blissful in their shackles.
They settle into my soul
to stay warm, cherished and loved,
and so they will stay,
within me, as long as I am here.
All consuming,
completely overwhelming
and at times too much to bear,
yet this is the love I live for,
I thrive from and grow for.
A love that is ours.
A love that I keep as my own.
A love so deep.
There’s No Baby Here
Where is the buba she calls for?
There is no baby here. They don't see him, but I do.
A baby transformed into a boy in the blink of an eye,
before my mind could catch up to find the right word to fit.
The word ‘boy’ doesn't feel right on my lips yet.
’Buba’ fits the baby I'm holding in my mind,
but the word no longer belongs to the boy in front of me now,
who is becoming part of the world more and more,
and less a part of me. Buba is the word I cling to,
as I desperately grasp any lingering wisp of infancy left.
A boy he is now, and a baby he will never be again.
But buba I will call you, just a little longer.
Extraordinarily Ordinary Suburban Life
To be ordinary. Positively average.
The simple pleasures of life are somehow simpler
While lavish luxuries are just out of reach.
We don’t fly to far-flung exotic locations.
We drive to the next town to pitch a tent in a national park.
A three-bedroom, two-bathroom, single-story brick house
Smack-bang in the middle of the suburbs.
The neighbours behind us bicker over breakfast,
The ones next door party every weekend,
And I can see their Rottweiler through the fence palings.
Lawns mowed. Hedges trimmed.
Garden beds mulched. Bins on the curb.
Leaky gutters. Peeling paint.
Cracked pavement. Ants in the letterbox.
Sounds of birds meld with hooning cars,
Grunting lawnmowers, and barking dogs.
Every payment tracked.
Every receipt saved.
Every purchase noted.
Keep track of your spending.
Buy within your means.
Budget or bust.
Deeper in debt you go.
Along with everyone you know.
Kmart and Temu.
Crocs and socks.
Maccas or KFC.
I revel in the ordinary.
Embrace it wholeheartedly.
Where mundane mediocrity
Means more than money.
The extraordinarily ordinary suburban life.
Welcome to My Substack! My Name is Tania.
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"I am no longer an ‘I’.
Not when they crowd my thoughts," 💚