23.6.11

Introduction to a New Voice

My name is Marta Frieda Hart. Well, actually, it isn’t. However, the initials are the same and the words mean ‘lady’ ‘peace’ and ‘strong’ and these are what I am, or strive to be. I am friends with Anna Belle Lee and have found great comfort and strength by reading her blog, so we decided that we could work on it together.  I post stuff, she posts stuff.  This is me trying to figure out who/what I am. My frustrations, thoughts, and even poor attempts at poetry will be here. I think this will push me: I rarely share things with people (it makes me feel vulnerable and slightly cheesy). Since this is me trying to share stuff- it will be emotional, it will be intimate, and hopefully it will help me to step outside of my neat little box. Because it is really quite messy in there.  A few facts about me: I am young, but feel old. I am pretty much broke because of medical bills. I love bicycles. My heart gravitates towards ballet.  I believe in the power of love- not just the romantic kind (even though that’s important and amazing), but the bonds with friends, family, and general kindness towards others. Most importantly, I have a cat who is absolutely SPLENDID! You’ll learn more about me as we go on, but I figured that before I pour out my heart you should have a general idea of who I am, so hopefully that was helpful.
Come take a trip with me, maybe we’ll fall…wouldn’t that be exciting?

Tschüss,
Marta Frieda Hart

12.6.11

The Light is Noir

The light is noir.
I feel the air escape your lungs.
I feel a steady beat humming your chest.
We’re both staring at the ceiling.
Silence.
The room is burning cold
A slick serenader would seduce you
Suck away the air from your lips
Fast like a dying breath.
But I
Lay only with you
Holding your hand
Like a small treasure
And allow silence to ensue.
Breath.
I can’t see your face
But I feel it in your breath
I curl into you
Embracing your air
 A phrase
The movement of these arms
Turn myself over and I look
Away, help me look away
The darkness hides
Intentions
The air tastes cool
I’m sucking at the mixed spit
Swallowed in my mouth
It tastes foreign
Tears
They venture down me
I hold in my breath
Do not see me in my breath
I am not me
The light is noir
And I am not me.

Best,
Anna Belle Lee