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Karen Butcher Poem
The losses and trials, are they an exam
because in my life, there is always a jam.
To hold a job, its been a while,
I used to get one with just a smile.
Now, with wrinkles and winces of pain
they think by employing me they have nothing to gain.
If I had a mirror or they had a glass
that would reflect a true image, and peer through the mass
of thin skin, chubbiness, and waves of gray hair
to see the real beauty of what I can share
they would find empathy, intelligence bright,
one who for others always does fight.
I seek a life filled with love, justice, honor
but they look at me and just see a yawner.
I see my life's journey, and I understand
that of these many years, none passed as planned.
As people begin to tally my life
they point out events and notice the strife.
Some look for reminders of struggles and fear
not caring to notice You were always near.
I have to remember when the world gets me down
and counts me as worthless, you'll give me a crown.
The trials of this life have not been for naught.
A purpose was worked, a change has been wrought.
And though it may look like I never can win,
The King wrote the Book, and I know how it ends.
I know I'm a winner, dear sir or ma’am.
I'm a child of the King...that's just who I am.
Copyright © Karen Butcher | Year Posted 2012
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Karen Butcher Poem
Dear King Henry, you came to me asking for my hand,
to be the one beside you as you ruled this fair land.
To be a queen, a lovely life, that is what you offered.
To be pampered is what I expected, to have an intricate coiffure.
The highlight of society, everyone toasting our good health.
Living in the lap of luxury, I seem to have much wealth.
Oh, I wish I had known, no matter what they said
the true desires, your wretched ways, the secrets I now dread.
You are short tempered, mean, and often crass.
I sit here in the corner, knowing I must not sass.
Even though you married me and wanted in my bed,
the next pretty face walked by and it was off with my head.
King Henry VIII and Anne Bolyne
Copyright © Karen Butcher | Year Posted 2012
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Karen Butcher Poem
I am woman, but I do not roar.
I sneak, insidiously, through the back door,
overtaking, so that you cannot ignore
me as I muck about and explore
your deepest secrets. I become your desire.
I become your focus, but you don't know
I wreak havoc. I interrupt the flow
of your life, as you try to become the beau.
I keep you in check. I make you go.
You don't even know I cause the fire.
One day, you may find me sitting in class,
or possibly notice me behind thin glass.
I am one of the many walking en mass,
amid people and faces, stupid… crass
trying to rise from the myriad mire
to become the one you most require.
Suddenly I find myself coming higher.
No longer must I sneak or conspire,
hiding in shadows, being a liar.
Now I can rise from the pyre
and become the one to love and inspire...
You
Copyright © Karen Butcher | Year Posted 2012
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