You will be okay
Don't listen to the girls who call you ugly
You aren't ugly, you are perfect
Mami and papa want to know what's going on with you
They don't want you to hide it because you are scared to hurt them
Don't do what that teacher tells you
She isn't trying to keep you safe
Don't give up on your music studies
Soon they will be taking you to New York City to compete
Don't ever stop writing how you feel
It's your right to express yourself
It's okay to love somebody
Even if they aren't the best for you
But most importantly, my love,
Don't be scared
To ask for help
Sooner than when I did
The game I’m stuck playing
Is not like the rest
My score gets higher
the lower the number gets
I lose every time
I step on the scale
My mind just tells my body
that we’re playing a game
Self care isn’t something I’m lacking
Everyone says it’s what i need
But no matter how much I try
I just don’t feel fulfilled
The game I keep playing
Is one I can’t win
My score keeps getting higher
as I continue to disappear.
Our bodies were celebrities, before we knew fame
Privacy was a luxury, stolen from our innocence,
Our curves measured, scrutinised by envy,
Scales became friends without the empathy,
Put under a microscope, our bodies criticised for growing,
A black girls body, becomes front page news -
The buzzword they religiously used, ‘fast’ as if it were choice
Shamed for being curvy, yet paying for our shape to be replicated,
They instil hate, to make us shrink -
Just for them to showcase the bodies they claim to ‘hate’
Stealing credit, and robbing the spotlight
The aim of their game, was to install shame -
To feel better, for not being naturally shaped
Paper reviews and media highlights,
No protection, just unwanted exposure,
Contracts signed without our permission,
To showcase our bodies, like we are caged animals
Turned into a circus, to point and laugh at,
To hide the fact, that they wish they were black,
Their skin green, with the envy of our blackness -
Projecting hate in disguise of jealousy,
Trapped in a state of constant sadness,
For not living up to an image they worked hard to perfect
Our bodies, were just caught in the crossfires of their anger
I stare timidly into the softly lit mirror,
Its gaze staring back at me unrecognizable.
I've been told this person is my friend,
But its reflection paints a different picture.
Its mixture mixes a mess of colors I never thought go together anyway.
A bit ghostly.
I trace its outline carefully -
A bump here, a dent there, extra padding everywhere -
So pathetically unfamiliar to me.
So frightening
to me....
To me
to me
to me
to me
Why does no one else seem to see
What I see?
What I see...
I've been told is my friend.
But friendliness bodes forbidden,
Foreign between the eyes of those destined to be one.
When will I learn my body is my friend?
Who honestly teaches that anyway?
I say honestly purposefully.
Lies, all lies.
You see it, don't you?
I don't even need to explain for you to know.
That's how low this show has gone.
I need help unmasking and redefining
this
festering,
fatal
phenomenon.
growing pains...
and so she grew,
because that’s what we all do.
she reminded herself that
her body
is her vessel.
it does more than just
exist
for a compliment,
for a boy,
for a mirror
or for a photo.
she told herself that her size,
and the tightness of her clothes
were not indicators of failure.
the fullness of her belly,
would never determine her worth
she found comfort in words like these.
yet she never,
not once
had to self assure
when her pants hung loose
or her stomach yearned for food,
when her waist curved inwards rather than out
not once,
not ever.
I strip in the solitude of my room.
the mirror reflects secrets that I keep.
All the silent screams of my faint life’s doom,
visible unhealed scars that hurt so deep.
Still I dream of you, naked in silence,
Nosy fingers deepening on my skin.
Scared of your rage when love stays in suspense,
Before your decree I hide with my sin .
Because I know you and how do you think.
It is not your fault life made you like this.
Crying in despair swallowing this ink,
so your eyes don’t see holes in my abyss.
In pain I must gulp the bitterest of drinks:
When flawed looks are heavy the ship of love sinks.
My curls are the frame of my temple, my curves an embellishment.
My skin smooth as silk.
My lips fill with contaminate cherries.
Your impenetrable eyes flow everywhere like torrents of sweet waters, rummaging in my past, crumbling hidden memories of unrequited loves.
My shoulders are scaffolding that support my rose garden,
infested with thorns and apparently fragile and delightful ruins.
My belly and my hips the high road of life,
and my strong legs tower with forbidden steps.
My body is a timeless architecture, where roots,
scars and immense deserts
transform it into what my unearthly essence has long resided, my temple.
Walk in casually,
In a house of mirrors especially.
You might differ in shape and size,
But don’t worry life is just alike.
On the opposite wall,
You might see.
That’s a reflection of you.
But not true exactly
I know each one, every line
My eyes trace them every day
From dawn’s light to dusk’s dark
One fascinates me, long, curved
It’s history hidden, for me to imagine, build a story
Bisected by others, short, shallow or deeper
Like stems of soft grass maybe
It lays there, reflects light, casts gentle shadow
But is one of many, unnumbered, multitudes
Sometimes still often ambulant
They frame smiles, laughs, sorrow, concentration
Then in rest they return each to its practiced place
For me to gaze upon them once more
Engaging my wonder, my thoughts
Building a beauty I will never forget
Mrs Potato Head
Mrs Potato Head's image surprised
That can't be me it's someone else I see
I still feel young in my heart and pint-sized
The mirror tells lies, it’s true believe me.
That can't be me it's someone else I see
She'd an idea that'd get weight shifted
The mirror tells lies, it’s true believe me
Then cut herself to a chip, weight lifted.
She'd an idea that'd get weight shifted
I still feel young in my heart and pint-sized
Then cut herself to a chip, weight lifted
Mrs Potato Head's image surprised.
18th July 2021
Pantoum Rhyme 1 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Eve Roper
Image no. 3
Social media can be a great thing
It helps us connect with our friends and distant family
It educates us on issues around the world
That we aren’t able to see first-hand
It can teach us useful things, and keeps us entertained…
At the same time social media can be awful
It disconnects us from our surroundings
It distorts the way that we see ourselves, and our bodies
It creates too high of expectations for many
It creates this false idea that materialistic things
Will provide us with the happiness that we’ve been longing for
Which is not the case
In my teens nothing bothered me,
Size 10 I could eat what I wanted,
My weight wasn’t something I worried about,
In my twenties and in my prime,
Size ten to twelve I watched what I ate,
Aerobics and weightlifting became my thing,
To keep my flat tum and tight bum,
In my thirties and two kids later now a twelve to fourteen,
My tum was bigger flabbier but not my bum,
I was always on one diet or another.
In my forties and now a size sixteen,
I have a big big tummy and slightly saggy bum,
Do I diet or exercise no not a lot,
Now in my fifties and a size !!!!!!!! eighteen,
I totally given up on the dieting,
With an underactive thyroid I dont see the point,
Now with a slight double chin and bingo wings,
Tum hanging low but bums ok it looks good in jeans
I've not mentioned two things they flew south years ago.
i remember
being by the pool
i was no more than ten
my grand-mother
was enjoying herself
chatting and laughing
suddenly
i caught
myself thinking
it will be nice
to get to that age
and not care
what my body
looks like
what !
even at that age
i knew
there was something
wrong
they had gotten
to me
i was already
brainwashed
AP: Honorable Mention 2021
The true fact is
No one
Is perfect
But somehow
There is a perfect image
For people
To recreate
It's not fair
It unrealistic
And it's unachievable
So
Even though
We
Try
To recreate
The
“Perfect”
Image
We still
Know we can’t
Which
Leads us to
Doubt
This
Image
Leads us to
A pretty
And
An ugly
It leads us to
A right
And
A wrong
It leads us to
A fat
And
A skinny
The thing is
Everyone is looking
For more
But what we
have to
Accept
Is that
We already are
That
“Perfect”
Image
Because
You
Are
You
And
That
Is what
The
Image tries to
Tell us
It tries to scream
That you can't
Believe
The still
Images
When you don't know
The moving
Background
You don't know
The tough
Behind
The beautiful
You can't
Tell yourself
That there is
Someone
Prettier
Because
Everyone
Has there
Own standards
Everyone
Has their own
Ideas,
Opinions,
Beliefs
The only things that
You
Can judge
Are your own
Ideas,
Opinions,
And
Beliefs
So don't
Go
Hurting
Other people
Based off of
Your
Perfect
Image
bowed before you once again
i’m worshipping you
when i said i wouldn’t
bent in half
i’m surrendering both my dinner
and my fears
knelt down before you
my legs tremble
my hands and chin drip
hunched over you
i am obedient
under your tyrannical rules
there will be no revolution today
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