Day 45: Cupid’s Arrow

Happy Singles Awareness Day everyone!


It’s Valentine’s Day, so write an ode to someone or something you love. Bonus points for poetry!

So I kinda thought an ode was a poem.

But anyway.

I use the word anyway too much.


I like to write poetry, but my poetry is all free verse. Whenever I try to rhyme, it just sounds like it comes from the cheese factory, because it is so cheesy. We’re talking mozzarella, feta, cheddar, and gouda. So much cheese.

Okay. I need to stop stalling and just do this.

I can’t think what to write this about! I have no inspiration!

For that reason, and because I need to go bed, I’m going to use a poem that I wrote on the day that my Grandad died just over a year ago. I’ve changed a couple of things, but it is mostly the same. Bear in mind that when I wrote this, I was sitting on my bed, sobbing.

This is called Call Me Princess, and it is an ode to my Grandad.

You’d always fall asleep on the couch
So I gave you the lazy award
Everyone was mad
But you just laughed
I gave you other awards too
Like the best Grandad award
And you said
“Thank you Princess”

You always told stories about the place you grew up
And we made fun of you
We hid whenever we went through that town
Because we didn’t want to be recognized
Now I want people to know
That I’m your princess

You always gave us stamps
At first it was cool
Then they became annoying
I’d find them everywhere
Little reminders of the man
Who called me princess

You started to forget things
Like names
You’d call me the wrong name
And then the wrong name again
Eventually you’d get it right
But you always, always
Called me princess

I remember
Eating waffles at the counter
And you’d come out after your shower
And say “Good morning Princess”
And then you’d make your porridge
In your stripy bowl
With the jug of milk nearby
And you always sat at the head of the table

You had your chair
The most comfortable chair in the house
And I’d sit there
And you’d come along and say
“Who’s sitting in my chair?”
And you’d pretend to sit on me
And I’d laugh and move
And you’d say, “Oh look, it’s a princess!”

Then you got old and sick and lost your teeth
And I didn’t like being around you
So I stayed home
But you still gave me stamps
And I moaned

But now you’re gone
I never got to say goodbye
No more falling asleep on the couch
No more stories about growing up
No more stamps
No more calling me the wrong name
No more porridge in the stripy bowl
No more crosswords in your chair
But most of all, no more calling me princess

Now there is no one
To call me princess

Writing that out made me tear up. I miss him.

Please don’t comment on how bad that poem was or how I used the word ‘and’ too much or that kind of thing. This poem is my pure, raw emotions spilling onto the page. It was my way of grieving. I know most people wouldn’t say stuff like that, but I just wanted to put that out there.


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