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.
Missing you December 5, 2010
fat girl November 29, 2010
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.
Winter haikus November 25, 2010
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!
trust November 24, 2010
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.
winter evening tanka November 21, 2010
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!)
what does love sound like? November 16, 2010
(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…
Amateur free verse November 8, 2010
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
Old love November 6, 2010
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/
A Hallowe’en story October 31, 2010
.
This is the time of year
They say the veil is thin.
The other side is closer
So fears well from within.
.
Harold was out driving
Along a country lane
The fog was rolling thickly
The moon was on the wane
A crash rang through the forest
As a tree fell on the road
Harold’s heart was pounding
He looked for an abode
There off in the distance
He saw a flickering light
He headed off toward it
While pushing down his fright
This is the time of year
They say the veil is thin
The other side is closer
So fear wells from within
.
The walk went on forever
Though it hadn’t seemed that far
Was the light moving also?
Soon he lost sight of his car.
A crunching noise behind him
Made him jump in fear
A huffling breath was panting
The thing was very near.
Harold’s scream rang wildly
As something hit his knees
He fell stumbling forward
Face first on moldering leaves
He fought to look around him
But something held him fast
A voice cackled out of darkness
He feared a die’d been cast
This is the time of year
They say the veil is thin
The other side is closer
So fear wells from within
.
‘It’s just a very friendly dog’
Harold repeated to himself
‘Nothing is eating at
My continental shelf.’
He waited for the owner
Of the dog? or wolf? or bear?
Wondering whether he would
Survive to get back there
To find that flickering light
He could make out through the haze
As the something kept on chomping
He then heard through his daze.
“Oi, looky at what I’ve found!”
“Girls see what Blackie’s got!
“A quite live man is lying here
“He’s not yet filled with rot!”
This is the time of year
They say the veil is thin.
The other side is closer
So fears well from within.
.
The voice sent shivers through him
As she hauled her Blackie off
“That’s not much man,” another voice
Behind him sniffed and scoffed.
“He’s man enough for what we want,”
The first voice did insist
She hauled him up and leaned in close
Her lips pursed for a kiss.
Harold pulled back in horror
As he gazed at her face
She’d said he wasn’t rotten yet
For her t’was not the case.
This is the time of year
They say the veil is thin
The other side is closer
So fear wells from within
.
The cackling hag shook him hard
And turned Harold around
She marched him to the light
As he tripped o’er stony ground.
Although he didn’t tumble
His heart thudded in his chest
And even when he faltered
She didn’t let him rest
“Hurry up you man,” she muttered
As he tried not to fall flat
“We’re almost to your destiny,
Are you prepared for that?”
He wasn’t and he gasped a bit
His heart, it gave a flutter,
“Please don’t kill me,” he begged her
With a pathetic stutter.
She laughed, and others joined in
Hags circled all around
The flickering bonfire crackled
He quivered at the sound.
The beast that followed snuffling
Was sniffing at his feet
And Harold whimpered softly
As he was pushed onto his seat.
This is the time of year
They say the veil is thin.
The other side is closer
So fears well from within.
.
He finally saw the creature
That had munched him without care
It was huge with yellowed fangs
It wasn’t dog or wolf or bear.
Harold trembled as he realized
That it was not a beast
But a mangled, damaged human
Looking like Harold’d be a feast
Harold shivered once again
And gazed back to the hags
Who cackled as they stared back
And waved their filthy rags.
“Oh Harry, we are glad you’re here
We need your soul, you see.
The potion that brings back our youth
Requires ingredients three.”
Another hag joined in at that
and added solemnly
We need an arm, a leg” she winked
“And something more manly.”
This is the time of year
They say the veil is thin.
The other side is closer
So fears well from within.
.
“When you have sacrificed your parts
You’ll see before your eyes
We’ll all become the beauties
For whom you’ll willingly die.
“Of course, just like in everyday
To hold a gorgeous girl
You’ll have sacrificed your manhood
By giving her a whirl!”
“You can pick whichever one of us
You’ll take home to your mom,
They’ll think you’ve hit the jackpot
And you’re having lots of fun.
“Of course, we’ll know the truth of it
That you can’t quite perform
But you can pretend all you like
And we’ll snuggle and be warm.”
Her coquettish gleam through hollow eyes
Made Harold feel quite squeamish
He didn’t need a trophy wife
He pondered how to vanish.
Then through the woods a booming call
Made Harold feel relief
The girl he loved had felt his fear
And was thundering through the trees.
The hags all scattered shrieking
As Harold’s wife came near,
“It’s time to go to hospital,
The baby’s coming, dear!”
.
This is the time of year
They say the veil is thin
The other side is closer
So fears well from within.
This poem is part of Jingle Poetry’s Monday Potluck:
Hallowe’en / Trick or Treat theme
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!
Share this: