Skeletons Poetry Contest.
Sponsor by Seth Pina
All our grandparents were deceased;
As were also both our mom and dad.
I don't know why I wanted to know,
nor what I would do if there were
coverups or secrecies in our family.
Is there any SKELETONS in our family closet?
That was the question to my oldest sister.
At first, she did not understand the question.
Immoralities, misbehaviors, unthinkable things?
Unsavory, mean spirited, and things unspoken?
Family secrets hidden from most everyone?
Dark deeds done behind closed doors?
It has been 28 years since I asked the question.
I have not seen or heard anything to the contrary.
My sister was genuine, and I knew she would be true.
I could feel the sincerity in her voice when she said,
I know of no SKELETONS in our family.
Wrongdoing such as cheating, lying, bullying ...
Prohibited strictly and used often as warnings
This fact relieved me, and left me a feeling
Any of which will be no longer our problem
It took me a long march of experience to tell
Those tricky things can indeed achieve winners
Alike the rich, well-known, and high officials
Needing to stand upon other's behaving finer
This assimilated human education with health care
Though they alleviate badness as mutual effect
Neither education eradicated human misbehaviors
Nor health care eliminates diseases as a fact
the other women are askance
a flapper has moved into the neighborhood
not on her own, but with parents
they cannot control her
she wears short dresses
this is 1921
her skirts are no longer than her knees!
She is flippant, reckless, risqué,
she has bobbed her hair
the other woman gasp their disapproval
she listen to jazz
smokes cigarettes in public
she flaunts brash behavior
I heard she drinks alcohol! some whispered
the rest of the women are shocked
most had no idea that she is also having casual sex
none of them knew about that
they were jealous of her confidence
her misbehaviors stoking their rumor fire
as she stoked their husbands
I went bass fishing
Where a gnome was swishing
Around in the water, doing serious wishing
What are you wishing for I asked the gnome
I want a poet to write me my own little poem
Well I am a poet, but I was on my way home
Can I get back to you Sunday? I asked the gnome.
It’ll be too late, he told me in a serious way.
I need to know as soon as possible, maybe even today.
I sat down on a rock and put on my thinking hat.
What is your name? I asked. They call me “Matt.”
What do you do for fun or hobbies? I asked the gnome.
Because I wanted to put this stuff into his poem.
What are you some kind of snoopy stranger? Matt said suspiciously.
I decided to move along, without helping him accidentally.
“What do you do for fun?” Matt yelled after the back of my head.
I could have answered, but I turned and stuck my tongue out instead.
So because of our misbehaviors, we both missed out on meeting a new friend.
I have no more time to explain, but this encounter was not the end….
Madame Bovidier makes no excuses for her misbehaviors.
her misdeeds are infamous; royalty speaks of her in astounded tones.
is she a relative? An off-blanket cousin? Or character of means unknown?
no one remembers when she first appeared or where she derived from.
her confidence level marches around rooms in steel toed marching boots.
she has the attitude of a brigadier general, and we peons fall into place.
reveling in her self-assurance. Waiting for our next instruction.
she is my honorary auntie, but even grandma fears her.
We old school teachers got voted down with a shout
We wanted school uniforms to continue you see.
The young teachers know everything, they voted them out.
Misbehaviors are as rampant as they could ever be!
Why can’t they show their belly buttons? A young teacher asked.
I show mine and my lovely bra straps and my thong too.
This leader is open-faced, not incognito in any way or masked.
Insanity is alive in elementary schools in twenty-twenty-two.
Why do we think it’s bad when other folks do it
While we persist in justifying our flagrant ways?
I suspect we cannot see our own shortcomings
Their misbehaviors despicable, ours merely flings.
Written March 20, 2022
We got confused
They could hurt our feelings
But we were not supposed to hurt theirs
They could do evil things to us
And we were supposed to turn our cheek
Allow them to increase their target
We were supposed to be doormats
And allow them to wipe their steel toed boots on us
We did not question it; socialized the way we were
By a woman
Who would not have tolerated
Any misbehaviors from others.
Should I please her or me?
Should I try to outguess her wishes and maybe miss the mark?
If I called, would she be honest anyway? She never was.
Would she tell me what she thinks I want her to say? Probably...
Spring break is right around the corner.
I could go visit and sleep on their couch, pushing her old dog off.
My flatulence filling their living room in the morning,
Embarrassing her prissiness, amusing the dog, maybe.
Or I could stay here, write my poetry, paint my pictures,
Relax, and not visit at all. She left me, remember?
I have been apologizing for her misbehaviors since I was eight.
What do I know of her anyway? My teachers despised her.
They kept prodding me, wanting more details.
I was the only kindergartener they knew whose mother had run off
With her minister, a man of God. Oh, please!
I will stay here and paint. Saving myself. She does not care anyway.
The world is made up of bystanders, upstanders, and victims.
The bystanders are horrified when their neighbors are falsely accused.
Offended when they see blatant misbehaviors, aggressors, punchers, slappers.
Relieved they are not targeted, the bystanders often become victims.
There is hell to pay then.
Or is there?
The victims are always targeted.
She rolled her eyes at me.
In a crowd of 50?
How do you know it was you?
I just know.
The victims have daily tales of woe.
She glared at me.
She gave me the bird.
He was whispering about me.
Did you hear it?
No.
I heard my name.
Could they have been saying something nice?
No.
How do you know?
I just do.
Being around them is hell to pay.
There are very few upstanders.
Maybe one in every two or three classrooms.
They are assertive, confident, and
Unafraid to speak up
Even if they are standing alone.
They speak up for the victims.
They speak up for the bystanders.
They speak up for the teacher.
If we don’t take our cue from the upstanders,
There will be hell to pay.
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