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Roxanne Schroeder Poem
Fresh opened plastic,
unstretched elastic.
Crew cut, solid white.
Knee high, gray on white.
Wal-mart bag, home that night.
Days go by, what a sight.
Wash the socks from the box,
dry them now, match them up.
Not too long to realize
something's up.
I search and search,
then give up.
Crew cut solid white,
gray on white, knee high.
My head goes back,
out comes a sigh.
Copyright © Roxanne Schroeder | Year Posted 2005
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Roxanne Schroeder Poem
Apple pucker gets things started.
Bacardi Limon, with Sprite of course.
Cactus Juice, on the rocks.
Dirty mother, one of my Kahlua faves.
Eggnog, now even more so my Christmas fave.
French Connection, takes me to France for next to nothing.
Gin and tonic, just to try it.
Hypnotiq, I'm hooked on it.
Incredible Hulk, he'll tear you up.
Jack Daniels, my new best friend.
Kahlua, add it to coffee...mmmm mmmm good.
Long Island Iced Tea, one is not enough for me.
Malibu and Coke for an island escape.
Nuttini, the only martini that I will touch.
Ouzo, Greeks can keep this for themselves, I wouldn't mind one bit.
Pina coladas, problems soon forgotten.
Quince liqueur, if I have the time.
Rusty Nail, the kind I don't mind if I encounter.
Sex on the beach, now that's always fun.
Tequila one, tequila two, tequila three, tequila floor.
U-238, the only bomb I wanna be blown away by.
Velvet Hammer, can pound on me anytime.
Whiskey, Irish whiskey, preferably...goes down smooth, doesn't burn.
***, the Molson that will wreak havoc with my head.
York Peppermint Patty shot when my breath needs refreshing.
Zima, for something to break the ice.
Copyright © Roxanne Schroeder | Year Posted 2005
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Roxanne Schroeder Poem
Bright shining star
in the night sky
fading fast
getting lost in the universe
floating into oblivion.
Copyright © Roxanne Schroeder | Year Posted 2010
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Roxanne Schroeder Poem
Daddy the alcoholic,
every single day,
full and countless glasses,
guzzled down,
help him please, and bring my daddy back to me.
Copyright © Roxanne Schroeder | Year Posted 2005
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Roxanne Schroeder Poem
Raised to believe she was beautiful and special
a look in the mirror reveals a ferocious beast,
with empty eyes and a sinister smile. Wicked
thoughts fill the head of the angel
in disguise whose eyes used to sparkle until she became addicted
to booze and her best friend Mary Jane. Origami
swans fill every nook and cranny. Origami
creations, folded neatly from paper, hold a special
meaning to the girl who is addicted
not only to Mary Jane, but heroin, that ferocious beast
that goes around stealing lives like the one of that angel
in disguise, turning even the most innocent people into wicked
monsters who care only about themselves. Wicked
hangovers don't stop her from making origami
swans because they take her back to the days she was an angel,
when her mom and dad loved her, told her she was special.
Now when they see her, they weep at the beast
she has become and long for the days before she was addicted
to Mary Jane, heroin, LSD. They wonder how she became addicted
to so many things when the little girl they raised didn't have a wicked
bone in her body. They wonder who the beast
is that wrecked their daughters life. Origami
swans, folded carefully, precisely, for someone special.
Every nook and cranny full, she fills bags full for her angel,
wanting to give the most amazing gift to her angel,
the gift of time. Time is all she has on her hands. Addicted
to shrooms, Mary Jane, booze, she knows she is nothing special,
she longs for the days before that wicked
man came along and taught her how to fold origami
swans while smoking weed, snorting coke, turning her into a beast
that nobody wants to be with. Now that she is a beast
she can't be with her daughter, her angel.
Her daughter loves swans. It is her daughters birthday. Origami
swans are all she folds, until her fingers bleed, addicted
to Mary Jane, she smokes herself to oblivion all because of the wicked
man who never made her feel special.
The wicked man who got that angel
addicted to Mary Jane, and taught her to make origami
swans was her boyfriend Bobby, the beast who never made her feel special.
Copyright © Roxanne Schroeder | Year Posted 2010
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Roxanne Schroeder Poem
Twisting mass of orange, purple, blue, green,
makes its way quickly around the screen.
Twisting, turning,
colors blending,
movement and it disappears.
Copyright © Roxanne Schroeder | Year Posted 2005
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Roxanne Schroeder Poem
Why aren't I good enough for you?
I hurt so bad inside...for myself AND for you.
It hurt so bad to see her hurt you that way.
I know I hurt you sometimes, even though I tried my best not to.
But I could never hurt you the way she did...and the way she will again.
We both know it's coming.
I hated it. Sitting there, seeing the pain in your eyes, wishing so bad that I could take it all
away.
Knowing that I could if you'd let me, if you'd give me that second chance.
I love her to death, but I'm a firm believer that cheaters are the only people who never
deserve that second chance.
Once a cheater, always a cheater I say.
Never thought I'd see the day.
The one where you openly take the road that will only lead to heartache and pain.
I told you before, I'll never tell you "I love you" unless I mean it. And I meant that.
She tells you that, but the words mean nothing, she openly admits that in her writing.
Now I am powerless to stop your pain.
Because no matter what, I can't stop the pain we both know will come.
I won't go back to you again.
It'll hurt me to see your tears.
To know that your heart's breaking.
At the same time, you'll be getting a taste of your own medicine, and for a second I'll bask in
the glory of knowing you're hurting as bad as I did.
You could have had happiness, but you chose sadness.
Remember that when the inevitable happens.
Could've had happiness...yeah, I may screw up here and there, but baby, nobody's perfect,
not even you. And even though I'd screw up, I could NEVER cheat on you. You mean too
much to me to ever do it. I'd leave you for someone else if it came down to it, but NOT be
with you AND someone else. And yeah, it might hurt for awhile, but trust this, it wouldn't
near as bad as the slap to the face you're gonna get from her.
No, she won't literally slap you, but when she cheats on you again...after she did it right in
your face, right under your nose the last time, DON'T come crying to me...remember that
the sadness and pain you feel is what you chose...for you AND me.
Copyright © Roxanne Schroeder | Year Posted 2009
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Roxanne Schroeder Poem
The golden orbs shine like fire,
clenched in the fists of
a fire-breathing dragon,
fierce with anger, teeth bared,
ready to attack any intruder
trying to take its treasure.
What treasure's held within?
no one knows. It must be
something wonderful, something
sweet as sticky watermelon on
a summers day, or something bright
and wonderful as a golden noonday sun.
For why else would the treasure
be guarded by a fire-breathing dragon?
with teeth sharp as diamonds
and claws as big as daggers
ready to pierce and rip to shreds
any intruder it encounters.
One day I will brave that fire-breathing dragon
despite the teeth of diamonds, and claws like daggers.
I will slay the guard of that treasure,
the golden orbs like fire,
they will be mine, oh yes, they will be mine,
if only to know what they hold inside.
Copyright © Roxanne Schroeder | Year Posted 2010
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Roxanne Schroeder Poem
The monster
hides deep within
until it is
unleashed
wreaking havoc
upon me
like Godzilla
upon the
unsuspecting streets
of Japan.
Copyright © Roxanne Schroeder | Year Posted 2010
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Roxanne Schroeder Poem
The picture is a window to another world
wide open, allowing me to gaze freely into
the distance,
getting lost in the warm blanket of fuzziness
that brings a smile to my face,
finding myself in a shelter from the cold
that blocks even the harshest wind
and withstands even the fiercest of storms.
Copyright © Roxanne Schroeder | Year Posted 2010
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