Poem | |
Hear the whispers inside
Chanting from long ago
Echoes come and go
Losing time in a soft eternal glow
A beautiful and delicate autumn mountain scene
Dry blue eyes enchanting melodies!
Voices falling from the sky
Rising hymns release ancient demons that cling to the soul
The darkness dwells under gentle moonlight
Ancestors of the Spirit World,
Exposing Indian hands that weave native smoke into the air
Their spirits taunting burrows from the muddy Earth
Moccasin makers rise from underneath
Guardians of dream catchers
Smooth thread from the outer edge, bowing heads.
Luminous gems of ivory,
Chasing a florid kiss.
Through the winds of enchanted drums, voices cry out for rain.
The hollow chimes mesmerize
An ancient rage begins to flare
The spears of the perfumed buffalo skin pierced my senses
Removing the veils that cover my eyes
The hands that cover my ears
Washing the scalp that bleeds on my face
They collect tears from memories of the past.
KINDRED IN EVERY WAY!
Raven silk braids, feathers fall from my hair.
Dancing in a horrid hallucination of Peyote,
Waking up from the “American Dream.”
Holding out my arms, I am free, I can fly.
I AM A BIRD!
Poem | |
~ CALYPSO ~
Odyssey of the open ocean
Eclipsing the performance of Heaven's delight
A beautiful name whispered along the night
Calypso, enhanced with enchanted lullabies
Sweet silver streams, dreamy epic diamond dreams
Serendipity falls in like mist, under the majestic marble moonlight
Calypso, you belong to;
--Sunsets of the secret sea.
Mysterious-- many precious places to go,
Calypso -free flowing, floating legend!
Ride the beastliness breeze above the sea
Whisper, Calypso come for me!
Beautiful Comforting, Calypso Carry me!
Reflections easily deliquesce into thin air
Sedating the open waters -Voyage- view
Visionary Vessel above liquid level,
as divine in spirits she sails.
CA-LYP-SOO-- Nymph Nature Name
Aquatic of belief-----------------------
CALYPSO, the journey of all journey's
For all eternity-------------------------
Poem | |
The Devils Riddle
Dark is the night
Dark is the soul
Dark is the heart that used to glow
Empty are the rainbows falling from the skies
Empty of the spirits when the darkness flies by
Empty is the treasure chest of dreams long gone
Tombs hold secrets of mysteries past
Tombs hold the dark to ensure it will endure
Tombs full of treasures are barren at last
Stones are grey in silence they sit
Stones are markers of the dark run amiss
Stones look up to overcast skies
death looks down, the final curtain call
smirks and winks, I will soon have you all
dark and empty you shall soon be enslaved
to the mysteries of dark empty ways
there is no final place that you shall rest
emoH the angel of death has declared
“oN graves the trumpets play as I shall sing”
Poem | |
As the last opalescent glow of sunset
I sail this ship alone
towards a crimson horizon
over a starlit sea
to the soft lapping of waves
which lullaby my destiny
I sail this ship alone
far from the coral sand
far from the pebbled beach
far from my sun-kissed land
Tonight there is no moon
but there's a sparkle in the sky
a starry night so still
filled with beacons of bright light
Tomorrow births a new dawn
a song within a dream
meadows of yellow buttercups
and fields of evergreen
Tomorrow I'll be greeted
by a pink-winged butterfly
a host of daffodils, and golden dandelions
a rose within a smile
Tomorrow I stroll along a new shore
feel fresh salt spray on my cheek
dance bare-foot in the wind
as Spring whispers on the breeze.
Poem | |
A sunny day
has beckoned me.
Fearless, I begin as
innocence leads me forth.
Leaving my lofty spirit realm,
will I slip into an abyss?
The path is unknown, but
it has to take me home!
Written Jan. 28, 2015 by Andrea Dietrich
for the Tarot Cards Poetry Contest of nette onclaud
My theme was #1: an interpretation of the fool
Poem | |
The soul's forever—
As an eternal spirit.
Leaves this mortal coil . . .
Again to the spirit world
And home to Heaven’s Kingdom!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved,
Schoeningen, Germany (November 7, 2014)
(Tanka poetic format)
Poem | |
On this last railroad journey, all’s ablaze
new stars pulse over brows of feathered trees,
and melt their glowing blinks on night's decrees
flickering through me white solace and haze.
Quite often, I have rolled the moonlight’s trail
as winds can pierce into my heart and know
my need to pass the crossings of life's flow
until end’s trip, when tracks of wheel travail.
Much like this ride, I'll walk the endless course
as seen among wayfarers’ eyes dark gold
where swallows chug above to reinforce
the tugging light, far fair, I do behold.
Shadow Hamilton's Railway Journeys Contest
Poem | |
Memories Of Bygone Days
O' yes, how well I remember her still
giant black oak atop big wooded hill
Those treasured days now long flown by
our free spirits flying so very high
Summer days within Nature's fine realm
majestic views that did so overwhelm
Cloudy days in the meadow far below
flowers galore, O' what a great show
My lady and I went up there to park
glorious scene set our hearts to spark
Under canopy of that old massive oak
she sweet words of undying love spoke
Our tree saw our love start to bloom
picture of that oak in our bedroom
Two years it watched our love grow
how was it to ever see or dare know
Life came and flew on us so fast
love came deeply but failed to last
Fate sent us onto far different treks
love destroyed, both lives were wrecks
Now I pass that massive tree on the hill
memory recalls her beauty , what a thrill
Time destroyed the scene it ruled then
O' the love of what should, could have been
Robert J. Lindley
note : Area cleared in the early 90's , only tree atop that hill
is that lone mighty oak!
A sentinel to the destruction that the world, man's world, wrecks
upon man and Nature alike!!
Poem | |
The Fool (Octodil)
Fool that I am
I roam alone,
A ragged vagabond
Unaware of perils
That haunt the obscure paths of life;
Into the unknown I wander
Led by exuberance ...
A trump card up my sleeve.
Author: Paul Callus ~ 31/01/2015
Contest: Tarot Cards
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Poem | |
Love is not a color,
No hue, neither a race.
All of our blood is the same,
That runs deep within our veins.
If we could lift up each other,
And know that we all care.
If we help our sisters and brothers,
There's a bond that we'll share.
©2013 Honestly JT
Poem | |
~Moon & Sea~
Hey boy won't you open that door?
Let's sing and walk by the shore
Come and spread out your eyes
Block looking for reasons, and whys?
The cosmos are more than a space to explore
Don't hide when I need.... Plus more.
Finish playing a master in disguise!
Lets find the perfect sunrise, sunset surprise.
Put your arms around me
Allow your moon to reflect off my sea
Too much time has passed you by
Come outside with and view the horizon up high
I've got my eyes set upon you
There's no need to feel blue
Hey boy comes, climb up this tree!
I'm going to show you all the things you can't touch, you can't see.
Lets fit the luxury and beauty of this world into our play.
Don't say them words that will set me free to walk away.
Take this kiss and see how it feel deep within your heart.
Close your eyes in my garden, and draw with the fragrance of art
I want to take you into that space, astronomy love.
Making it easy to float with the clouds way up above.
Glide away from the blame of gravity and self destruct.
Bounce of the dust of hurt when you fall and get cut.
Boy, let's hold in this perfect air together.
Leave the cold end of someone else's weather.
Follow me beyond the distance of chemistry.
I will expose your moon and explain the physics of my sea.
Give it another chance and you will see!
Your moon, is skin deep, needing water from me.
Turn on the tune in your heart, and listen to me.
In every sunrise, the moon entwines with the sea.
Poem | |
This place inside where all my feelings keep.
That lies somewhere between my heart and soul.
Should I, the guardian of my fortress seek,
Protection from those, who would see them stole.
So many times have you this bastion breeched,
With scant regard for all the dangers posed.
That my hopes and dreams should not be reached,
By eyes that only wish my heart exposed.
These inmates with their liberty restrained.
That strive against their shackles and their chains.
Am I their jailor too cautious to be blamed,
To free them no matter what their claims.
And if freeing them should reveal my heart,
I might be also freed.. my life to start
Poem | |
Grief is not something we “get through”…
you “get through” a bad day
Grief is not something we “get over”,
“you ”get over” a cold”
Grief is not something we “move on from”
you “move on from” a bad relationship”
But Grief is… a companion we “move forward with”,
learning from and growing, with each agonizing step.
Grief is… a heart-wrenching process, not bound by time,
But sets us on a “lifelong journey” of finding truth and meaning…
Grief is not a crutch we hold onto for pity
It is not a lack in character
It is not a weakness that needs to be strengthened
Or a problem that needs fixing
It is not an enemy to be slain
Or like a wild animal, to be caged
Grief is… “A METAMORPHOSIS OF HUMAN LIFE”
YES! that needs “time”… “A LIFETIME”
Grief is… an acknowledgement of true love shared
and true love lost
Grief is… a love we hold so deep within our souls
That our tears fall to caress the pain…
“God given tears”, full of purpose and meaning
For each one carries with it a piece of our heart
grief hugs us and holds us close
to a great love we can no longer touch…
grief is… our friend for without it
our lives would have been a lie.
Grief is…purely and simply a journey of love
It is a friend, to those of us who mourn
A friend who sees what we need and allows us to be us
Grief is a release of unimaginable pain…
a release of a great indescribable loss…
Grief is… the bridge that crosses repentant oceans,
spans desolate canyons, and fear filled mountain tops.
that we may cross over this tragedy to a renewed heart
by means of the love we shared and continue to share
through the love of our Almighty God
A pain we can use, to broaden our hearts
and the hearts of all those around us
it is… a road we must travel to gain wisdom.
A level of wisdom you will never achieve by playing strong.
For only when we sink to the bottomless pit of grief
Will we be awakened by the light of truth.
Do not judge it… for it contains Gods secrets
Secrets you can only hear by listening
through the blare of the pain.
It is a sacred contract to be in awe of and inspired by
To learn from and grow from
To gain compassion and understanding from
It is a journey that holds a sacred contract
That will be signed by each and every one of us
Who has the strength… and the courage…
to love with all your heart and all your soul.
It is not a journey I would wish on anyone
But now that I am here I will walk it with honor
And purpose, with my head held high and my feet in stride
For at the end of this road there you’ll be,
waiting to take me home.
Poem | |
The tears well up, and scarce could she not moan
When father, brother, husband, all have died.
She now has no possessions, neither home,
But travels to a distant, unknown land:
Once so secure, yet now compelled to roam;
Once rich in love, she treads through foreign sands.
Her weary feet move forward but by faith;
For all left to her name is mere belief:
Mind, heart so far away she seems a wraith-
Love, happiness- all taken by a thief.
When, sometime since, her heart had broke in two,
The path of life, once single, parted way;
Forsake she could, but this she would not do-
All else was gone- with mother she would stay:
"Intreat me not to leave thee," was her plea,
"For whither thou wilt go, there will I; pray
Forbid me not to follow after thee,
For where thou lodgest I would also stay:
"Thy people shall be mine, thy God my God;
And where thou liest, I will gladly lie
Beside thee, overhead the selfsame sod;
That even then thou mightest be closeby.
"And so they twain walk on, hand clasped in hand;
Both hold the only thing they yet possess:
The younger but a stranger in the land,
An enemy, a widow in distress.
She rose before the sun to find a place
Where she might gather barley ears and wheat;
A field where she might find some needed grace
To gather for their winter store of meat:
Then Boaz comes from Bethlehem, and see,
He tarries with the reapers of the wheat:
He comes to Ruth and says, "Hear'st not thou me?
Remain until the harvest is complete:
"Go not from hence, but in my fields abide,
And let thine eyes be on the field they reap;
Behold, these maidens thou may'st work beside,
And near the reapers thou may'st ever keep."
Then to her face she fell, and wond'ringly
Asked why to her, a stranger, was so kind;
And he replied that she unfailingly
Had cleaved unto her mother with one mind,
And left her father, mother, and the soil
Of her nativity, and kissed the dust
Of some strange land wherein she meant to toil;
Forsaking gods of Moab God to trust:
"The Lord," said he, "reward thee for thy deeds,
And recompense thy labour and thy love:
The God of Israel answer all thy needs,
And make his wings a shelter from above."
Then said the maid, "My lord, please let me find
Some grace and favour in thy blessed sight,
For that thou hast been friendly, spoken kind,
And I am but a stranger in the night."
Then Boaz said, "At mealtime here abide;
Rest in the shade, come, sit with us and dine:
So down she sat, a reaper on each side;
She ate her wheat and dipped her bread in wine.
Then Ruth arose, and to her work she leaves:
The master thus commands his servant men,
"Let this young maid glean e'en among the sheaves;
Rebuke her not, for she shall come again;
And let some handfuls fall onto the ground,
There let them lie for my sake and for hers
That she may glean and plenty may be found;
For reasons she has need of it are pure."
And as she worked, Ruth knew not what a sight
Of beauty and of diligence she made,
As in the golden field in sunset's light
She bowed her head and knelt as if she prayed.
It came to pass that in his fields she stayed
Until the end of barley harvest came,
When mother told the lovely little maid
To seek for his provision and his name.
She washed and dripped an oil filled with sweet
Perfumes of wild roses on her face:
She had not much; her beauty was complete
With but her finest clothes to seek his grace.
Her braided hair shone brighter than the gem
That never graced her soft and shapely form;
Her eyes, they sparkled brighter than the hem
Of gold and pearls that she had never worn:
Thus Ruth went down unto the threshing floor
Where Boaz winnowed barley till the night,
And peeked at him so shyly 'round the door;
She never let him leave her searching sight.
His workday done, the master ate and drank;
With happiness his heart was full when fed:
Then by a heap of wheat he went and sank
Into the furry robes that made his bed;
And Ruth, a while watching till he sleep
Kept vigil from a stone used as a seat,
Till when his eyes had closed and sleep was deep
She lifted up the cover from his feet
And softly laid her down and dreamed of brides
Until the watchman struck a dozen beats,
And being startled, Boaz woke and spied
A woman sleeping at his very feet:
"Who art thou?" queried he in sleepy voice;
"Thine handmaid, Ruth," was her unsure reply;
Then blessed he her for wise and kindly choice,
For passing poor and rich young fellows by.
"And now, my daughter, gladly shall I do
According to thy wishes, for all here
Consider thee as virtuous and true;
Howbeit, there is one to thee more near,
A kinsman who must duly have his say:
If he decline, then rest assured I will
Perform the part of kinsman." So she lay
Down at his feet, and both were quiet, still.
In grey of early morning she arose,
Before a face could be discernéd there;
To keep from what some people might suppose
And who might stand along the road to stare:
Then Boaz said, "Bring here the vail thou hast
Upon thy head and hold it in thy hand:
Six times the barley measure filled and passed
From heap to vail as much as she could stand.
Then Boaz went up to the city gate
To find the nearer kinsman, whom he sought,
To see if he would purchase the estate
Of Ruth, and she herself, but he could not;
So Boaz purchased all the widows' land;
The houses, barns, and fields, though overgrown;
And bought what pleased him most, Ruth's comely hand
To cherish and to make his very own:
Then Boaz went to find the handmaid, Ruth
And lift her from a servant to a wife;
To love her in all tenderness and truth
In every day God blessed them both with life.
[By Isaiah Zerbst. Published 9/7/14. Parts of poem have been removed due to soup's limitations.]
Poem | |
If only I can ask the world
To gather all the love
Each person has.
If only I can feel the love
Free of inhibitions in some extent
And share it with everyone.
If only I can be
With the love of yours
So that I can have my last wish.
If you permits me to live and die
Unconditionally with and without you
Oneness reflected indeed.
Poem | |
CHARIOT OF FIRE
I stand in silence and behold the sight,
staring in wonder, waiting for thunder.
A chariot of fire travels through the night.
The white-winged horses gallop in full flight
pulling at the reins; flowing are their manes
I stand in silence and behold the sight.
Where are they going? There’s a shining light
leading all the way, so they will not stray.
A chariot of fire travels through the night
amidst the heaven where in pure delight
resides the Master, the sweetest lover,
I stand in silence and behold the sight;
Blessings whisked to amble slowly with plight;
heartbeats race to sway, courage on display.
A chariot of fire travels through the night
armoured by God’s spirit. They ride like knights
fearless from pain; victory, their peak gain.
I stand in silence and behold the sight;
a chariot of fire travels through the night.
©P.A. Callus and O. E. Guillermo
Written last 5:07 pm, November 17, 2014
Poem | |
It’s an unknown journey, but I see a trail
heading to the light of tomorrow
There will often be times I'll be afraid, to go
I may stumble a bit, with an eager heart
And may tremble climbing cliffs of old sorrows
There are deep, black chasms I will not forget,
where slopes slick, with pitfalls, are waiting to trip
But I've gone too far, and I can't turn around,
Just as the sun can't turn its back on the day
The trees speak in tongues, so foreign to my ears
using parched, old voices, and tears from the sky
Scraps of brittle leaves litter, with dust all around
Mixed with words left unsaid, that I've left behind
There’s a sharp mist of hope, at the bend of the river
yet,sun on my face seems to lend,
the slope of the rain, but the warmth of the sun
with an open blue sky at the end
Poem | |
Myself, Armed Only With A Dying Flame
Dark travels in such a long life
early days of hungering strife
A child born to fight for it
tasting ton of salt in every spit
Lost on pathways that breathe my aches
Prod me restless as I sever the chase
Between day and night and promises I made
To myself, armed only with a dying flame
Days sinking past like a slow tide
no softness, that one could abide
As years sent life into a dark spin
easy came toughness, pain and sin
I have seen more than I ever could
Branches of bitterness carved deeply in wood
Wandering eyes dismissed them as facades of a man
Who fell victim to the ride as the years fell down
Is there saving grace if I stop at none
I may have foreseen it all but I doubted I’d come
To terms with myself and make me turn around
From the edge of this cliff and fade away void of sound
Then came love trying its very best
softness, weakness in every test
Blade drawn to parry each thrust
to live on never daring to trust
Swiftly gone like a bygone air
I may be nothing more than despair’s heir
Constricted by premises that haunt every corner
Shutting my eyes will mean absolute surrender
A weak moment, hell bore on down
life melted, each day a new frown
Love had been accepted with grace
she left without a path to trace
Sad night , the fight no great cause
clocks stopped, universe hit pause
Time yielded no forgiving reprieve
love lost, nothing , nothing to retrieve
I was again left to remain
I have but myself to blame
When the rain comes to ease the pain
I know I’ll be whispering your name
Collaboration write, Robert Lindley and my very talented friend, Jake Ponce.
Here is hoping that you may enjoy this humble team effort .
Has been my great honor to write with my friend Jake!
Poem | |
Et Portæ Inferi Non Valebit
(And the gates of hell will not prevail)
Gates of Hell shall never ever prevail
promulgation of Truth forever stands
Soul and Spirit each rings a sounding bell
Fate's ruthless results judges all the lands
Vanities of all men foolishly praised
Spirit's dark desires bearing bitter fruit
Rejection of He that was truly raised
lies and corruption are the stolen loot
Righteous hearts look to Heavenly skies
sincere prayers, deliver such bless reward
Mankind races onward using blinded eyes
to an ending very bitter and hard
In the dark shadow of this evil world
Our Creator's redemption has been hurled!
Robert J. Lindley, 10-11-2014
Syllables Per Line: 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables: 140
Total # Lines: 17 (Including empty lines)
Total # Words: 93
Poem | |
How many souls
live on the edge,
Between the gutter
and the ledge?
A hopeless fear
crawls in their gut.
Each day, another,
The moments pass
Sad, bitter winds,
are all that blow.
A man lay huddled,
near the bin.
will take him in.
Frozen tears, on
Frostbitten ears, and
shoes that leak.
His mind forgets
the games of tag,
Old Crockett's hill,
where down they'd slide.
A summer rain,
the puddles deep,
out catchin' toads,
to tame and keep.
His life began
with dimpled cheeks.
Red tousled hair,
and hide 'n seek.
A tough old Dad
who tricked and teased.
A pretty Mom
who smiled with ease.
They had a farm
with fields of hay.
A few old hogs,
and bills to pay.
One summer day,
the sky turned black.
A howling wind,
brought down their shack.
Dad sold the hogs,
and cut the hay.
The farm was lost,
we drove away.
The next two years,
were grim and lean.
Dad broke his back,
to feed us beans.
When winter came,
our food ran out.
We found old Dad
hung by a rope.
Without poor Dad,
no food, or fire;
Mom took my hand,
the day was dire.
The Sister's face
looked mean and sour.
I thought of Mom
most every hour.
They scrubbed my back
until it bled,
cut off my hair;
then I got fed.
'Twas many years
before I left.
My Mom had died
a tragic death.
Now all alone,
I lived and slept.
I begged for food,
and sometimes wept.
A life of days,
and endless woe.
Now time is dead,
and death too slow.
As you walk by
those 'homeless freaks',
with dimpled cheeks.
Poem | |
We hear the engine whistle
The hissing of the steam
The hairs on our necks begin to bristle
As we meet the arrival of a dream
We didn't think we had a chance of winning
Entering just for fun I guess
but thanks to simple poem we are grinning
As we board the Orient express.
London to Paris, what a dream come true
I never dreamed the sparks would fly between us two
The fireman stokes the boiler; and releases a jet of steam
The guard collects our tickets and we begin our dream
Days and nights together on this magnificent train
Travel through beautiful places, seeing new terrain
Enthralled at the elegance and beauty of the carriage
Will our trip together end up with our marriage
Looking so handsome in your new dinner jacket
Glad you won this holiday; it must have cost a packet
The ambiance of the surroundings is utter bliss
We seal our relationship with a tender kiss
Holding hands so gently we share a vintage wine
Sitting in the Pullman coach you rest your head on mine
Velvet blue sky and shining stars start to cast their spell
The romantic seine has such stories to tell.
In Paris we visit the galleries of fine art
Holding your hand I realise you have captured my heart
We pass through the Arc De Triomphe and climb the Eiffel Tower
Now I surrender to your feminine power
Retire with me to the Napoleon suite
Sharing in the splendour of this romantic treat
Promise to be my Mam'selle Josephine
Or expose my heart to Madame Guillotine
You look so beautiful and smell divine
I kiss your lips, They taste of fine wine
We are lost in the flames of passions fire
As we quench the thirst of true loves desire
Our bodies rise and fall as we entwine
Oh I’m so glad that you are mine
All those feelings denied and for so long suppressed
Come to the fore aboard the Orient express.
Passion abates we are wrapped in each others arms
Darren wants more so I succumb to his great charms
Our fire ignites with desire and great passion
Hour upon hour – this man I can’t ration
Finally we reach the end of the line
Our love making session has been so divine
Arm in arm we head out of the carriage door
So hopelessly in love – who could ask for more
15th April 2014
Jan Allison and Darren Watson - 'JaDazzle'
Please also read my Blog about our collaboration
Poem | |
by Lori Maria Walton
Come walk with me among the daisies
Not with the roses, as they have thorns
But among the lucid pulchritude
Waiting with open eyes to the sky
For whom she lives
Today, walk with me among the daisies
Elevate your eyes to the indigo azure
And ascertain love’s authentic disposition
Contemplate the sheltering expanse dancing above
Admiring the daisy field
Walk with me among the daisies for a moment
Knowing they fade into the winter
Receding into the cold earthy mirth
Waiting for the sun to coax a new blossom
into obvious view
Live with me among the daisies
Bring your passions to these fields
Inosculation of spirits
Brios entwined in submission
To the seasons of life
Leave with me to the daisies
When time can be no more
When you are tired from the roses thorn
And long for gentleness and mercy
To hold you through the night
Lay me softly among the daisies
And let me dream of how they made you smile
And you remembered life’s sweet innocence
As you played in their petals creating
A life of beauty and goodness
Poem | |
Some where in a faraway world , sitting alone is a faraway girl .
Alone with her thoughts , paper and pen .... Stroking her words ,
adventures begin .
Fantasy writes of long ago ; Ill fated lovers who's love has gone cold ;
Valiant knight's tasks of daring deeds , armor plated silver on their
galloping steeds ; Moonbeam walks alone or with him ;
Sunrise mornings bare bodies of them .
These are a few of her adventures to tell .
Deep in her heart loves abounds and swells .
Her words taking people on fascinating trips to secret gardens,
sanded shores , up hill side cliffs .
Scotland , London , Paris , Rome , all the while she's sitting at home .
Lost in her thoughts this faraway girl,
creating up dreams in her faraway world.
As she ends her stories her day's begun . A life like most others ,
more work than fun . Normal tasks take up her day , kids off to school ,
horses to hay . Clients coming one after another ;
welcomed visits from her dear mother ; a mother a daughter ,
sister a wife , a few of the titles , chapters of life .
Alone once again for a moment in time , visits these thoughts ,
the stories from the mind . Stepping into that faraway world ,
becoming again, that faraway girl .......
Poem | |
When I was a child I only ever wanted to be strong.
I wanted to be able to compete with the boys
and when I foot raced them at recess I won every time.
They called me ‘She Hulk’ because of my muscular frame
and from the way I only ever wore soccer t-shirts and sweat pants.
After that nickname was implanted into my brain like a growing weed,
I’ve only ever wanted to be feminine.
I started wearing skirts and dresses
and in middle school they shrieked at the site of my makeup and done up hair.
But that weed inside of my mind only grew, and grew, and grew
until I became a mixed drink cocktail
with one part anorexic and two parts lonely,
because I thought that the definition of feminine began with the word frail.
No one ever realizes how greatly words affect us,
how a simple nickname can turn a pretty girl into a skeleton.
I stood at five foot two weighing seventy nine pounds,
so cold and frozen,
yet I still considered myself a ‘She Hulk.’
You could see my ribcage through my t-shirt
and my spinal cord protruded loudly through my weathered skin,
as if somehow my bones were dirty knives
just trying to cut through the flesh of judgment.
As I grew older I became the girl that was never enough.
Not good enough to speak poetry.
Not good enough to lay paint on a canvas.
Not good enough.
Not tall enough.
Not big enough boobs for them.
Not primped to perfection.
Not undeniably straight.
Not smart enough.
Not dumb enough.
Not ditsy enough.
Not cool enough or fun enough.
And I began to believe, too, that I wasn’t enough.
I never told my mother that I had been in madly in love with a girl.
I never told anyone about the night we first kissed
because I was too vulnerable for the judgment.
And parents always justify saying that ‘kids will be kids’
But when we are kids our brains are still growing
and the smallest of seeds that get planted will one day bloom
into one giant regret,
will one day affect the choices that we make,
will one day influence us about the clothes that we wear,
will one day shape us into the person who we thought we would never be.
I only ever wanted to be strong,
and as a child I thought strength was only about being able
to lift a bar stool above your head.
I thought that strength was only about being able
to beat the boys in bare foot running races.
I was told that strength was something only
a man could have.
But as I’ve grown older I’ve realized that strength
isn’t about muscle at all,
but it’s about weakness,
and the ability to overcome the social anxiousness.
It’s about carrying around a lifetime of baggage
on your broken back
because the ones that kicked you when you were down
are going to be the ones that were ultimately wrong.
I thought that the definition of woman
began with the word disappointment.
And I became a mixed drink cocktail
with one part freedom
and two parts Sailor Jerry
because every girl needs a stiff drink once and awhile.
We are not disappointments.
We will never be the ones who gave up on hope.
We will never be the ones who gave up on each other,
or our mothers.
We will always be enough;
enough for the ones who shunned us
enough for the ones that cursed us
enough for the ones the hurt us
and destroyed us
and beat us when we were covered in bruises.
But you see, bruises fade
and the scars of our flesh are only stories
things we have overcame
and there are things out there that we will overcome.
When I was a child, I only ever wanted to be strong.
I hid my vulnerability.
I hid the parts of me that were true.
I never told my mother about my girlfriend
because I was afraid she wouldn’t understand,
kind of like all those people who never understood
just how much words effect us.
I can’t say that I can beat the boys at foot races anymore,
because, well, I smoke cigarettes now.
And I can’t say that the nickname of my childhood didn’t affect me.
But I take that name now and embrace it.
Because I am strong.
I am the ‘she hulk’.
I am a mixed drink cocktail
with three parts greatful.
Poem | |
--Goodbye--To my Addiction-
The time has come to part,
I will leave many with broken hearts
If one day you call on me,
I'm sad to say I will hold my tongue missing each one relentlessly
I'm not doing this for me; I am doing this for you
I could stay here and win, and not give in
But, this soup bowl comes with demons and nasty shadows
Demons and nasty shadows, taking and crashing my light
Demons I had to fight off the entire time I was here
Shadows hating the way I welcomed every poet with a happy cheer
Demons and shadows whom drown in their selfish everyday pity.
For those smiling on my departure,
I want you to have this wonderful gift
So please copy paste this moment from the bottom of my heart
**I hope this gift brings you laughter, knowing
I've been sad, these past few days, drying up my final soup tears**
I will miss this part of what makes me ME -my love and lust for poetry.
I agree with many I should never surrender to the envy of demonic dust
Giving up the passion that completed a part of my soul for years
But, the reality of life, is the life's I give and given when I make love happen
In my heart I know it's time to give myself back to reality
SO AT THE END I WIN, I'm the one who ends up with an everlasting smile
I'll finally be free from this place, where most treated me unfair & unkind
Free, from the negativity of the few who hide behind a dishonest disguise?
Wait until you notice your soup bowl's going stale
You will miss me, and I will miss you
But, my enemy will miss me even more
Reminiscing the times we spent hogging up 70% of blogs,
Arguing and fighting over not agreeing with many thoughts.
But, it was never the differences of opinions, it was more like---
Let's slay the Destroyer, a name like that should never be on top
So please know I am sad, and this is not the way I want to go
I'm not leaving you because I want to
I'm leaving you because, the rumors are
"The soup is better without the sweetness of the poet destroyer."
The only big thing about me -was my heart not my ego
I never claimed to be the best;
You're the one who claimed I am good enough
You took me in and returned my love
In ways others could and would not accept.
And for you my loving poet friends, and fans
I will walk away with my dignity/integrity;
I can CARELESS IF I PLACE OR DON'T PLACE IN YOUR CONTEST
I guess I'm finally growing up
In becoming the bigger/better poet.
Signing Off ---Love
The Poet Destroyer