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Rhona Mcferran Poem
Don't bother me with conformity
don't bother me today-
with things I should (or shouldn't) do
or what I shouldn't say!
Don't bother me with conformity
my house is not “obscene”...
Orange, purple, and lavender
look lovely with lime green!
Don't bother me with conformity
I'm much too happy, carefree
to wonder why the neighbors all
keep staring so at me!
Maybe they're jealous of my tail
I really don't give a hoot!
Surely they have seen before
grown-ups in zebra suits?
Don't bother me with conformity
...too busy to follow your lead!
I've whatcha-ma-call-it thingies to build
and unicorns to feed!
Don't bother me with conformity
don't worry me this way!
You've stepped on all the faeries toes
and run the elves away...
Don't bother me with conformity
you're being such a pest!
My mud pies were quite fabulous
and not a “filthy mess”!
Don't bother me with conformity
my music's not so loud...
Accordions are delightful-
See? It's already drawn a crowd!
...Respectfully holding their applause
until I reach the end-
Oh no- they really love it so!
You're quite mistaken, friend!
Don't bother me with conformity
come dance a jolly jig!
You really should loosen up a bit
you sad, forlorn, old prig!
Don't bother me with conformity
No thanks! I've had my fill...
of boring, bland, and deathly dull
no doubt that boredom kills!
Don't bother me with conformity
Oh, what was that you said?
Well, I think you (and your boring lot)
are the crazy ones instead!
Copyright © Rhona Mcferran | Year Posted 2019
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Rhona Mcferran Poem
Anxiety, Anxiety-
you creep, you lurk, you worry me
Mangy monster under my bed
on all my fears you must be fed
and when I try to starve you out
you stab me with a blade of doubt
You sneaky, scurrilous, savage beast
I don't hate you, but I like you least!
You are not cute or cuddly
why do I let you cling to me?
You're ugly and you're worrisome
you drain my joy and leave me glum
Anxiety, Anxiety-
I hear you've achieved notoriety
evidently I'm not the only one
you'll hassle them all before you're done!
'Though, I don't see how you find the time
to carry out your heinous crime...
For all day long, and nighttime, too
a hovering pest, too big to “shoo”
you hang around and taunt me fierce
by dangling daggers with which to pierce
I tremble in my delicate skin
but chin stuck out, I'm determined to win
Anxiety, Anxiety-
you will not get the best of me!
You've wasted enough of my precious years
you deserve no sympathy or tears
like the monster you are, you'll be destroyed
I've armed myself with the likes of Freud
While you watch me, I'll study you more...
know your every weakness- for this is war!
I'll vanquish you for once and all
I've armored up for the bloody brawl
but hey- what's this, a hasty retreat?
Don't tell me that you admit defeat!
No Anxiety, Anxiety-
you're devious, sly and slippery
Before you let me kill you off
you slink away to smirk and scoff
knowing full well that you'll come back
to get me with a sneak-attack!
Copyright © Rhona Mcferran | Year Posted 2019
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Rhona Mcferran Poem
Narrate you own life's story
and tell you own life's tale
Don't leave it up for grabs
or even up for sale!
Write down your own life's story
before the others do
Wading through words and phrases
that aren't remotely true...
Plan out your own life's story
before it's done for you-
and you're stuck acting out a life
that you despise and rue.
Plot out your own life's story
or at least, Act Two (or Three)
Rewrite your script, if needed
to set your spirit free!
Dress yourself with color
costume yourself with care
Create the character you want to be
and strut with catwalk flair!
Design and build your life's stage
or at least, rearrange the props
and play your role with moxie
not caring if it flops...
Create your own life's story
as producer, director, star-
and then kick back & enjoy the show
no matter how bizarre!
Be your own show's critic
ignoring all other reviews
Lavish your life with praise
acknowledging cast and crew.
Become your very own fan club
awaiting each scene of your day
Taking joy in each thoughtful detail
of your glorious, quirky play!
Copyright © Rhona Mcferran | Year Posted 2019
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Rhona Mcferran Poem
I've a bit of a problem here...
in a higgledy-piggledy pickle
torn between housewifery
and creative muses fickle.
Scattered, shattered fragments
of odd ideas, dreams
lay about my den, disguised
not nearly what they seem!
Bits of whimsy, what-nots
all cluttering my desk
covered in thick pixie dust
my housekeeping grotesque.
Higgledy-piggledy hodgepodge
my convoluted mess
a sign of utter genius
(or else mental distress).
I'd planned to tidy up...
to toss a few things out
but as I gaze upon them
they sniffle, weep and pout.
To think that I'd discard them!
Those former hopes and whims
unborn poems, paintings
their destiny quite grim.
Delicately backing out-
I apologize with care
as they cold-shoulder, look away
with such dramatic flair!
And when my husband asks me
just what I've done all day
I simply shrug “not much”
not knowing what to say.
How could I ever mention
the lurking living things
inside my head, upon my desk
that gently pull my strings?
The odd creative forces
that captivate me thus
wildly penning amid my piles
while he remains nonplussed!
Copyright © Rhona Mcferran | Year Posted 2019
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Rhona Mcferran Poem
For years I wore
your shame as my own
and lived unknown
in terror of being seen
like a leper
self-quarantined
intrinsically unclean
Your neglect
became to me
my insignificance
undeserving of your glance
Your abuse
became to me
my fault and utter blame
my soiled but rightful name
Your abandonment
to me
was my unworthiness
unfit and valueless
'Til this layered shame became
a camouflaging cloak
wrapped about with care
disguising me as if
I wasn't even there
How I avoided them
my friends so true
for they could plainly see
the agony in me
and I couldn't control
it radiating through
Yet butterflies won't stay bound
in crippling cocoons
integrity impugned
by wings that cannot fly-
and I at last have found
the answer to my wounds
in exposing you
and all your lies
You were cruel-
I do matter
You were guilty-
I am not to blame
You were unfit-
I am worthy
You nearly destroyed me-
But I overcame
Now my only dread is
of leaving this world
as un-notably as I came
as invisibly as I lived
to be known only
by others
as unredeemed as
you thought me to be-
No! the truth
will set me free...
I humbly give
this cloak to you
it was yours to wear
not mine to share
I'm through
I'm through
I'm through.
Copyright © Rhona Mcferran | Year Posted 2018
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Rhona Mcferran Poem
Love me or hate me
few people can take me
plain, unadulterated, true to myself
their compulsive need to gussy me up
or completely disguise me
gives me nightmares...
Horrible- horrible!
The worst is where
they try to make me
Savory.
Suffocated in sauces, sweet relish
and pickled beets
garnished with green olives
and fussy-cut vienna sausages
all dancing in fancy chorus lines
on top of me
Oh No! I can't take it...
It just can't be!
What are they thinking?!
I awake with a snug sensation
as something warmish
drapes and
drizzles
down my back
AAAAAHHH!
Caramel sauce-
Thank God!
Copyright © Rhona Mcferran | Year Posted 2019
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Rhona Mcferran Poem
Thankless job, I think watching
as Thurman tries to teach the young man
The lad sitting up
on the tractor
like a proud young pup
is full of piss and vinegar
half the time not listening
and half the time telling Thurman
how much he already knows...
As Thurman patiently slumps
his still-sturdy but ungainly frame
against the tractor
fingers strumming his red suspenders
a good-natured grin
slowly spreading
across his grizzled face
gleaming behind think glasses
I see a glint of soft amusement
at this grandiose greenhorn
Thurman has lived through
the Great Depression, and then
the horror of hand-combat
in World War II
one of three from his unit
to make it through-
so there is nothing this little ingrate
can possibly do or say
to break Thurman's composure today
he remains uncommonly calm
and utterly unflappable
a small chuckle slipping out
every now and then
And while the young man boasts
and blusters on about
his plans for next week
Thurman is mostly quiet, until
at length, asked about his plans
“Lord willing-
and the creek don't rise...”
he begins, knowing how
much could change by then
Copyright © Rhona Mcferran | Year Posted 2018
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Rhona Mcferran Poem
A fitting anthem for
an introvert like me-
Simon & Garfunkel's
scrumptious harmony
of “I Am A Rock”
spoke oodles to me
in its painful poignancy
bouncing buoyantly
on declarations
of independency
needing no one
utterly free
encased in fortress castle
with books and poetry
I was a rock, an island
a party of three
just I, Myself, and Me
Until he came along
and proved me somewhat wrong
as icy waters receded
I found that he was needed
an “island” no more-
I became a sort-of peninsula
with somewhat rocky shores
Yet, sometimes I still hum it
or belt it right out loud
“I Am A Rock”
ever my anthem
away from the peopled crowds!
Copyright © Rhona Mcferran | Year Posted 2018
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Rhona Mcferran Poem
I was caught by a train yesterday
I hear people say
this often in exasperation
exaggerated tones
with over-dramatic groans
as if the train somehow
physically captured them
in its large mechanical grasp
diabolically refusing
to let them go
Yesterday
I was caught in a different way
imagination captured, you might say
captivated
charmed
and enchanted
by the passing art display
Something about the way
vibrant, vivid colors
unexpectedly
splashed out on moving canvas
of rust red and dull gray
traveling fast
across the city
feisty train talking smack
with tags and words amusing, witty
strange, disturbing, edgy, gritty
grinding down the tracks
Sometimes shocking-
artfully rendered obscenities
or surprisingly
endearing
cartoon creatures
manga characters
from overseas
expressed with impressive
expertise
and ingenuity
As other drivers sat nearby
fussing, fuming
missing the show
pawing their floorboards
like impatient horses
hands gripping wheels
ready to go-
I watched the trains in
constant childlike
wonder and delight
for those twenty minutes of my day
two trains gone by, one each way
...Then watched the other cars
rolling through
still red
flashing lights
as soon as crossing arms
were lifted halfway
rushing, roaring
trying to make up
the time that was “taken”
by the railway
Copyright © Rhona Mcferran | Year Posted 2018
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Rhona Mcferran Poem
My cousin Tallie
was a real-life
award winning
beauty queen
from age six to eighteen
The kind who seems
a cardboard cut-out
Southern stereotype
all big hair and hype
manicured nails and
well arranged...
assets
but in reality
there was much more to Tallie
Her favorite movie
was Fried Green Tomatoes
and as far as movies go
it was good
but I never understood
until much later
why she loved it so
At first I thought
she was obsessed with the dish
she just 'had to try' fried green tomatoes
with fried catfish...
But it was actually
more about “Towanda!”
the primal, female battle-cry
And there was something electrifying
heartbreaking and mystifying
in the way she had the nerve to
let loose
a hullabaloo
screaming “Towanda!”
without reserve
fully, freely
like a woman
on the very edge
with nothing left to lose
and that was true
Tallie'd been abused
but somehow
nobody chose to see that part
that she actually had
had a heart
that someone had torn apart
Now Tallie's a badass
with blue-green hair
and a hard edged manner
devil-may-care
she has a tattoo
for each person she held dear
far and near
dead and gone
and no one knows why
she's evasive, withdrawn
as they spew out their judgments
in-between their
slow Southern
matter-of-fact yawns
With all the details noticed
while picking her to pieces
how did they miss the moment
her innocence was taken
faith in mankind shaken
How the barefoot, crazy-haired Tallie
running free, suddenly
stopped entirely, sparkle gone
certain sadness in dark eyes
and full-grown
this woman appeared
world-wise
And while they wonder
who the father of her
latest offspring could be
I wonder where the
adorably incorrigible
little Tallie is-
that used to be
Copyright © Rhona Mcferran | Year Posted 2018
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