Page 36 of Beyond the Blues

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Chapter 20

At the hotel pool, I’m laying on my sunbed, my towel draped over me to prevent the breeze stroking my bare skin. All I can think about is how Nora has gone to live up to her dream, and how maybe I should be too. Maybe that can be my good thing after Nora? I decide to scroll through the documents on my phone and read my work, then I find one poem about Coco. The hurt is fresh, and it shows in my writing. It’s raw and emotional, and I can remember exactly how I felt six months ago. I decide to add a follow up line below it, showing things don’t stay so sore forever. It tells the roller coaster of feelings when dealing with grief. This is it, this is the one. I open up the internet and search for a local poetry magazine in London and send this poem out to every email that pops up.

A couple hours later, my phone pings, I open it up and a magazine has already emailed back. I sit up and read it carefully.

From - londonpoetsmagazine

Dear Ophelia,

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Thank you for kindly sending us your work. I can tell this poem means a lot to you, and it is indeed beautiful and well written. We would love to include this on our ‘Upcoming Poets’ spread. If you are happy to please send us your full name and the name of the poem.

Kind regards

London Poets Magazine.

I sit there in shock. Although this is just an independent magazine, it’s still out in the world. These people liked my poem so much that they want to put it in their magazine. I frantically type back, expressing my gratitude, but I freeze when it comes to the title. The poem was about losing Coco but now it’s about how things get better after all this pain.

Dear London Poets Magazine

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Thank you for your speedy response! I’d be delighted to be included in your magazine. My name is Ophelia Greene, and the poem is called ‘Beyond the Blues’.

Many thanks

Ophelia.

I press send, and for once, it feels like I’m not behind in life. Whenever I saw people my age, I couldn’t help but feel I was behind in life. I didn’t have my dream job, a partner, and I still lived with my parents. But when you realise everyone’s life is different, there’s a weight lifted off your shoulders. Some people have simpler paths than others, and that’s okay. Everything works out in the end.

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Chapter 21

Getting back from Greece was difficult for me. Going from a sunny country, hopelessly in love, back to London, where reality hits me like a ton of bricks. On my bed is a pile of mail I’ve received since I’ve been gone. I skim read most of them and then I get one from London Poets Magazine; I open it up to the most recent edition of their magazine. I skip through the pages and get onto the ‘Upcoming Poets’ spread, moving my finger down the page, and then I see mine. There’s my poem, with my name. I smile to myself, and cut out the poem carefully. I stick it up carefully above my desk, and stare at it for a little. The little compliments on your work always give you hope your writing could be good. My mum gently knocks on the door, popping her head around.

“Hi darling, you okay?”

I nod, waving at her to come over to me.

“Look, I got my poem in a magazine.” I point to my poem on the wall, and my mum reads it, hand on her chest.

“That is so beautiful Ophelia, I wish you’d write more.” Maybe this was the push I needed. I have written so many poems it could probably fill up ten books. Sure, some aren’t the greatest, but some are okay, some just need some editing. My mum places a kiss on my head and rubs my back, her hand warm and comforting. She walks out, leaving the door ajar. I open up my laptop, opening a blank document and stare at it, my fingers hovering over

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the keyboard. Then I write, I write everything that comes to my mind and after a few hours I have poems. Certainly rough, and some, if not most, won’t make the cut, but it’s a start.