Olga's Poetry & Thoughts

What is a father? Who is our father? Our Father, capital F, who art in heaven, Our father, who's watching the game on TV, Our dad, to go on camping trips with, Roasting marshmallows at dusk Our daddy, a strong neck to hold on to When we are too weak to walk Our papa, the second face we register When we are born onto the earth Our pa, pop, Old Man, tata, head of the house A man, a person, a being with graces and faults Pa, a cluster of memories Of popsicles on the way home from school When mom wouldn't allow it Of walks to the park and the playground Of being taught how to ride a bicycle Then pa morphed to dad, and then to father Our Father, distant, almost unaware of his existence Father, to be prayed to, to be worshipped A father who is not a dad at all What is a father? Who is our father? A man who loves us unconditionally A man who sets an example for future generations A man, surrounded by family, in a warm home A man who is honoured because he deser...

Hooray. I graduated from the notoriously soul-sucking, snobbish, yet also beautiful and prestigious establishment that is the University of Toronto. When asked, "what have you learned in your four years?" nothing remotely related to academia comes to mind. I could say that I learned about wacky political philosophers and their undying sexist theories. I could tell you that I acquired "critical thinking skills," improved my writing and grammar, and can now read a Victorian novel in one day without a problem. But the things that I was taught in my classes are not the things that have stuck with me the most. All my various experiences of growing up and "discovering myself" in the maze of U of T can be summed up in one lesson: Sometimes, the things that are good for you don't feel good, and the things that feel great are leading you down the wrong path. This is an elementary lesson that we learn as four-year-olds. "Eat your broccoli, Susan! Even i...

I remember how wonderful it felt to be young With strawberry sparkles lingering on my tongue And when I looked in the mirror my eyes went ablaze I could ogle in my reflection for days upon days Yes, I recall, the moments my decisions were wrong Stuffing stockings with suffering, I did not belong Approaching mild matters with excitement and zest Whilst shunning crude chores and disregarding the rest I still look back upon times of doing nothing at all Chatting over creamsicles or crusading the mall With heels of four inches and a textbook in hand Texting my mother, telling her I’m running errands Countless hours spent idly in front of a laptop screen Barbeque chips inhaled yet I remained so darn lean A cat on my bedside and a crush in my mind I recall pathetic nights that I should’ve left behind Thoughts seeping like toxin, oozing on replay Yes, I remember those serpents to this very day Lonely walks home, music streaming too loud Other times, I was...

I am in a particularly deep thinking/the world is beautiful mode, so I decided to write another one of those depressing/OMGWTF type of poems (: Just some thoughts that have been going through my mind that I decided to share with the 2-3 (4!!?) people who read this blog. Enjoy Today, I looked at myself in the mirror. Not in a doing-my-makeup sort of way. No, this surpasses eyeliner of any kind Today, I learned who I am Hey, maybe I'm not that pretty after all Mom just tells me so just because she has to My grades? Average, nothing Harvard worthy Do I deserve the praise? Perhaps compliments means nothing. No matter how many times they tell me how special I am... I'm just one among the millions Of the people living in the world When I die, who will remember me? Over time, I will be forgotten And the only remains of me will be The waves in the stormy, rolling sea Those were my thoughts as I stared into my eyes. Just like daisies cry and tarnish Emotions come and go Not a daisy in...