And I remember
tea parties with my mother,
sitting together,
legs crossed,
nibbling on our shortbread biscuits
and talking of lighter things.
I felt like royalty then;
a fair, red-topped princess,
Elizabeth in repose,
with my queen of a mother
like a gentle statue at my side
always reading, always being read.
Here we sat --
one lost in words, in loneliness,
in a constant stutter of marital doubt;
one lost in life, just lost
in a fervent search for the luck
of a private clover.
A tenderness was shared between us then
as mother and daughter.
But when the daughter was grown,
once 'woman' was applied to her title,
a common ground was absent
and precious memories
of royal ladies at tea
became petty and awkward.
~
Today we search for comfort in others
that should be found in one another.
A kind, healthy peace is unlikely
but still we struggle, struggle, and struggle for it
all the same.
February 6, 2012
- This next one is stupid, but still pretty funny...well, at least I thought so.
Friend in the Head
I have a little friend in the head.
He isn't alive but he certainly isn't dead.
He entertains me day and night
and comforts me when I'm a fright.
He's made of righteous DNA
and somewhat feminine; a little gay.
The fun we have is almost too much
and hand in hand comes trouble and such;
for every time we get called out,
and every time they scream and shout,
I always come out losing in the end
because I can't blame anything on my imaginary friend!
The ruckus he causes; the pain inflicted
is absolutely nothing to be predicted.
And just when you think you have control,
he turns you crazy like rock and roll.
He likes my habits; my bad ones at most,
and has a fetish for green eggs, ham, and toast.
I made him up completely but to me he is no lie;
he gives me what I always need and more than enough to get by.
He never leaves me, never cheats,
never mocks at what I eat.
Never leaves me hanging in the wind.
Never keeps me down and pinned.
The greatest addiction. The perfect drug.
What I dig he's already dug.
And together we be sinful, see.
My silly friend in the head and me.
January 24, 2012
- And this one is pretty much my life right now.
Stuck
I lie awake in a moan,
a fickle sigh;
the prisoner of the undead coffin.
A mask of fear
of the optimism of change.
The protagonist now the antagonist
and nothing more;
an empty blip in the sky,
an unwanted crayon in the variety box.
Pea green.
Lairs of animosity toward the self
breed like wild fires
in the depths of my mind.
They give me guilt,
sell me anger,
barter my strength for barren courage.
It develops in the mind
but feeds on the physical,
forcing its retreat into aging
and weakness
and foolishness.
A sad, morose, detestable prison,
inescapable yet inevitable
if one gets lost within the echoes of a pitiful moan
or swallowed by the cocoon
of an unaltered existence;
a stagnant evolution.
January 23, 2012
- More to come...I've been writing like crazy lately so I might as well share it, right?
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