There is an empty place
where there should be your face
Be happy where you are
though it is much too far
Away, my love. from my embrace
Return.
I long to kiss your face.
There is an empty place
where there should be your face
Be happy where you are
though it is much too far
Away, my love. from my embrace
Return.
I long to kiss your face.
The fat girl is crying inside tears under her laughter.
She bounces ’round the school yard and wants to be what boys are after.
Such a shame that she’s so fat
She might be pretty under that.
They never look at her that way, because they are superficial,
She weeps into pillow then decides to make it official.
Such a shame that she’s so fat
She could be pretty under that.
If boys can’t see how sweet she is beneath her layers of fat
She’ll be alone unless she drops the weight and that is that.
She spends some time and works a bit on losing what she can
She drops a few that thin her face and now she’ll snare her man.
Such a shame that she was fat
She’s mighty pretty under that.
She lies in wait for just the one Who doesn’t know her past
Before he can imagine what’s ahead she’ll snag him tightly fast.
Such a shame she’s been so fat
Everyone knows it’s under that.
And so it was, a handsome man came looking for a mate
A wedding day and he is snared not knowing what’s his fate.
Such a shame that she was fat
He sees a beauty under that.
The joy of having kids to love can’t quite remove the loathing
she feels when she looks in the mirror and soon she stops her doting.
Such a shame that she’s so fat
and rather bitchy on top of that.
Her handsome man becomes a source of constant humiliation
She wants to be what she can not Her bitterness infuses frustation.
Such a shame that she’s so fat
She should be jolly under that.
Because she can’t accept herself, she compensates with work
She wants everyone to admire her wherever she should lurk.
With strength of will she bends all ears to make them see her side
They buy from her and sing her praise while hubby sees her lies.
Such a shame that she’s so fat
Her husband loves her under that.
From time to time a program comes along and she drops pounds
The success makes her elated and she tells everyone around.
She is trapped in self-disgust in her body that is fat.
Because inevitably it all comes back and more on top of that
There’s only one success in life she’s nothing if not thin
She desperate now to be the girl who always gets to win.
Such a shame that she’s so fat
She’s sure successful besides that.
.
No matter if she has success and earns a lot of money
The truth of who she really is is certainly not funny.
Inside’s the little fat girl who is self-absorbed and cruel
She’s so desperate for admiration that it only serves to fuel
Control o’er all who come to her thinking she is kind and true
But watch yourself, she’ll take all you’ve got ’til there’s nothing left of you.
Such a shame that she’s like that
No heart is left beneath the fat.
.
.
This poem is rooted in that aphorism “Wherever you go, there you are.” Some people blame a lot of things for their sense of unfulfillment– their weight, their race, their spouse, their circumstances, having kids, not having kids, etc. Although we all have challenges to overcome, it’s always our own life, and our character is revealed in how we deal with those challenges. So here is a narrative of a woman who was obsessed by the needy fat child within her and how she lets that child run her life. It’s an extended metaphor. It is a cautionary tale. Those inner children should not be allowed to run amok! They are like Stephenie Meyer’s Immortal Children in Breaking Dawn– they destroy all around them, while the creators lose everything in the fight to save them. Sometimes we have to destroy the inner child in order to save ourselves and our relationships.
I had a tooth pulled yesterday and subsequently a bone graft. This was the first time I’ve had an extraction in the chair without general anaestetic so I was surprised at how well it went. Mind you, there were something like 7 or 8 injections of freezing! I thought it went very well. Today the real pain began! I am very aware if I’ve passed 4 hours because my jaw throbs so painfully. I woke me up at 4 a.m. and again at 10. I am wishing the periodontist was here to still some more anaestetic directly into my nerves!
Excuse the lack of brilliance as my jaw throbs and distracts me from any creative energy. I am thankful that my pain will be going away soon. I know that if I just give it a few days, the swelling will die down, the agony will leave. My pain is only temporary. For many people there is no end in sight. They battle every day with chronic pain. How blessed am I. May every throb in my jaw remind me of that.
My feet crunch upon
fallen stars glinting under
the glowing street light.
.
Crystalline twinkles
entrance in the frosty air
with joyful promises.
.
Driving the highway
frozen lazers fire fury
forced blindness brings fear.
.
.
This is the story of my drive home from work this evening. At 5:30 it is already dark. As I walked into the parking lot, the snow was so beautiful as it twinkled in the overhead lights. As I drove, however, the snow filled the windshield. It was possible to see only a little bit in front of the car. A semi -truck roared past on the passing lane, and absolutely filled the air with snow so all the other vehicles were completely blind. Driving in a dark snow storm is very scary. You can barely see the road in front of you, and if you hit ice, you can easily be spinning into oncoming lanes. So- in this series of haikus you see the transition between the picturesque and horrifying aspects of winter!
She trusts him
-the truth of him
–the truth of them
but she fears
the helplessness
-having watched him
unfold and unravel
under eyes that glowed
with glorious attention.
Temptation trails closely
behind such glowing eyes
and apparently intelligence
and good intention
are not always
adequte protection
from ampilified admiration.
That’s the truth of them
-the truth of him
–the truth of trust.
.
.
A submission for One Shot Wednesday. Check out the poets.
The road is frosted
with a sparkling coat of white.
Car lights twinkling
Slipping, sliding and spinning,
Sparkle camouflages ice.
.
.
(At this juncture, the car is off the road, and the driver is standing forlornly with arms crossed, hands tucked under arm pits, stomping his/her feet to keep warm while s/he waits for someone to push him out of the ditch… Welcome to winter!)
(overheard in a toxic home)
.
I’ll love you
Won’t you love me?
I can love you
Despite my self-loathing.
I’ll love you
I’ll give you whatever you want.
I’ll love you.
I’ll make you feel like a man
I’ll love you.
.
(and he believed)
.
I love you if you give me everything
You’re stupid.
I love you when you buy me anything
You are an idiot.
I love you because you pay in blood
You call that manly?
I love you. Maybe.
.
(what does love sound like, girl?
is this what your mother taught you?)
.
I love you if you obey my command.
Get out of here!
I love you if you give me your soul.
You’re weak.
I love you if you beg.
Fine, come back. For now.
Yeah. Okay. I still love you.
.
(so you can
torture him some more)
.
I love you if you grant my every wish
Shut up.
I love you but you have no rights to anything.
Get out and stay out.
I think that I don’t love you any more.
Do this for me
I might love you again.
Here’s the knife to rip out your own heart.
No. I don’t love you after all
.
(we heard your every word, hon
not just the public words.
you have no idea what love sounds like).
.
.
.
Again- Stockholm Syndrome! Help others! Abused spouses of either sex need to get help to recognise that they are being verbally and emotionally abused, and to understand that their abuser is controlling them by mis-labeling abuse as love. It’s NOT love! Healthy relationships do not look like this. It doesn’t matter that it’s all you’ve known love to be. You’re worth more than this! See a professional. Get help. Get out. GET A LAWYER!!
.
============================
.
Shared as part of Jingle’s Monday Poetry Potluck on the theme of EMOTIONS. Quite a few here: publically mouthing of manipulative “I love yous” (on the left) which really demonstrate hatred and disgust to the abused spouse not the love they profess. (See the private words in the centre column). As well the ‘Greek chorus’ (commenting on the right side of the page) offers distain for the abuser and compassion for the victim…
Putting on the English teacher hat…
(Free verse: poetry without rhyme scheme or rhythm. The following poem is a tirade against bad free verse. It is not written in free verse.)
.
When crafting lines of poetry
Please choose your words most carefully.
If you must vomit onto the page
Clean up all the boring beige
Only the best words should be saved
Everything else, please deftly raze.
Leave your message in a poignant turn
Not lost amid the dross and worms.
In poetry, now please don’t pout,
the best is left, when you toss out!
.
Do you think a poem about it will make my students more inclined to do it?
No. Probably not.
I hate rambling, self-gratifying, free verse poetry. I wrote a lot of it as a teen, and it was very cathartic. Not everything we write is worthy to be shared. (In the effort to avoid hypocrisy, let me take this opportunity to apologize to the young men who were forced to endure those horrendous, cathartic poems: I was young. I was stupid. Please forgive me). Let us remember that even free verse should be edited for the most beautiful, evocative, powerful language we can create! There is power in brevity!
I think I may make a poster that summarizes this idea even further:
Use the best, the perfect words
Don’t bury them beneath the turds
Sighs floating on the
Whispers of wishes and dreams,
our future unfolds
Night after night
in kisses and caresses.
With whispered words in the darkness,
we’re wrapped in rapture
year after year.
.
.
This poem is part of Jingle’s Poetry Rally Week 32
http://jingleyanqiu.wordpress.com/2010/11/03/thursday-poets-rally-week-32-november-4-10/
Night warmth December 3, 2010
Tags: free verse, love, poem, poetry
Beneath my pillow
Left hands woven together in the night
Rings touching
Cold feet pressed into warm shins
Arms encircling.
Breath moves through my hair,
a breathing blessing.
We’re facing the same direction
In sleep
In life
And in love.
.
.
Submitted as part of Thursday poets’ rally. Week 34
Rally participants, please include a link to your own entry within your comment. This makes it easier for both rally participants and the general public to discover your poetry. Looking forward to reading!
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