A doll, as plain and pale as frost,
Once deemed my spirit would be lost—
As swift and boundless as the breeze,
As what in them I'd come to seize!
For life, I held, was barren ground
Where some were born for glory crowned;
Those left must wither to the bone,
But these were whispers, mine alone.
They taught me how to breathe and bend,
Resolved my doubts that would not end,
And showed me whom to truly fear—
The human race, now ringing clear.
Amusing how the ages sing
Of power flowing, whispering;
How reason's walls come crashing down
When faith ascends to claim its crown.
Thus now my tale begins to soar:
My gift unlocks a hidden door,
Through shadows deep and mysteries...
And soon, my dear, we'll dance with ease.
-
Categories:
plaything, evil, writing,
Form: Rhyme
Smushed lump of clay,
molded plaything;
Such a spoiled brat.
Categories:
plaything, emotions, feelings, love,
Form: Than-Bauk
I’m Mz Mortenson, if you please.
I dispensed with the charade
when I went to my grave.
Life can be tricky
if you’re pretty.
My life was a role,
I couldn’t always control.
How unaware the dumb bombshell seemed.
Still, I was labeled the obscene Norma Jeane.
in reel life’s small doses,
the role was emotionally corrosive,
merely etching away my fragile identity.
In real life it proved erotically explosive
destroying my privacy, serenity, and sanity.
I thrilled in some 29 films, I took a few pills,
was a plaything for mobsters and tabloid mills.
When I started a fling with the president,
did I have any idea what I was up against?
Some free advice - beware of counterintelligence.
Homicide, suicide - what does it matter
- which one is sadder?
I knew I’d always be there for you, sensuously beckoning,
at 24 frames per second, like an eternal flame - flickering.
.
.
Of course, Norma Jeane Mortenson’s stage name was Marylin Monroe
Written for the 'Lost Poetry from History Challenge' contest.
Where you write a poem in the voice of an historical figure.
16:00.06-17
Categories:
plaything, addiction, beauty, celebrity, death,
Form: Rhyme
I live like a cancer - quick, unplanned growth unheeding of greater designs.
I devour information like a starving wolf - never sated, never tasting the goodness I consume.
I throw myself into activities under exhausting self-compulsion. I should ... so I do ... so I'll die ...
I create in a fit of madness, barely finishing one draft before my mind races to the next.
I busy myself and flood my ears with music.
I let my seething mind boil over without restraint.
I do what I can to escape thinking of you - O Time.
Scythe-wielding Saturn, most ancient of fears.
First to murder his father, only to taste the same fate.
Do I fear death so much?
I don't know ...
But I quail at the shortness of life.
There's so very much I want to do ...
And surely it's better to do much, right?
Especially when we're not sure whether all we do is right.
How can we love what we fear? What we dread?
Time, O Time ... Time ... Time .... Time .....
16 October 2023
Categories:
plaything, time,
Form: Free verse
i grew up overnight
in one swift flash
redefining moment
you touched me
abused me
victimized me
you had no right
how could you
how dare you
i trusted you
you crossed the line
you branded me
scarred me for life
AP: 1st place 2020
Posted on May 13, 2020
Categories:
plaything, body, child abuse, innocence,
Form: Free verse
It’s snowing hard today
winter won't go away,
on a slushy roadway
there’s no upswing.
The snow builds up slowly
smothering roads wholly
And I’m feeling lowly,
nature's plaything.
Not a flower around
though snowdrops should abound,
their appearance renowned
as a wellspring.
The birds have no comeback
from winter’s late attack,
frozen ground is a setback
feeding offspring.
It is hard to ignore
icebergs floating offshore,
spring seems more a folklore
on the downswing.
(Violette)
Aug. 23, 2018
Categories:
plaything, 10th grade, beautiful, how
Form: Rhyme
Yesterday, I saw my first tulip of Spring,
and a smile instantly bloomed deep in my heart.
Today, I heard a red-breasted robin sing,
imploring Winter's wretched winds to depart.
And tomorrow's rain will be April's plaything,
offering sprouts a cool drink and a fresh start.
As our wobbly world spins upon its axis,
it unlocks seasons and grants Nature access.
Categories:
plaything, april, beautiful, feelings, imagery,
Form: Rispetto