The Cut

The Cut

Abused as a child
she felt so much pain
too much suppressed
for the heart to contain.

She could not remember
who hurt her so
thus to rid herself of pain
she made her blood flow.

She said that through cutting
her pain oozed away
the desire to cut herself
was with her every day.

Did she ever remember
who stole her childhood
and where do you think
each of her parents stood?

How much can one bear
as one goes through life
and can she be blamed
for turning to the knife?

Written for dVerse Open Link & also shared with Poets United Poetry Pantry!


I recently completed the teen fiction book 
Scars by Cheryl Rainfield, who was herself a 'cutter'
when she was a teen.  It was a moving book,
though sometimes hard to read.  I don't want
to give away too many plot details.

Broken Doll

Broken Doll

Broken doll

still hoping for hands

that will hold her and love her

though her allure has faded away

forever.

This is written for dVerse Meeting the Bar...a modified cinquain form.

Winter Hair

Winter Hair

Crushed by necessary cap

my hair is flat this time of year

straight and flat is winter fashion

useless to try to look stylish

I have made the choice

cold is 'out' and flat is 'in' 

stylish will wait until summer!

Yes, this is my cap!  This is written for Anthony's prompt
at dVerse Poetics:  Hair.  Also for Peggy's prompt at Poetry Jam:  Tis the Season.

Silent Alone

Silent Alone


From the corner of my eye
I watched him
as he drank coffee
lost in a book
silent alone

in a corner of my mind
I wondered
what was his life
what were his dreams
and why he was he
silent alone

from the corner of my eye
I watched him walk
out the door
into the night
silent alone

in a corner of my mind
I wondered about
his history and if
the rest of his life
was also so
silent alone

We went to a very small cafe today in a nearby town, a place where the man who took the orders was also the chef and where everyone who came in seemed to know him on a first name basis. But in an adjoining room, almost the entire time we were there, sat this man above. He did not interact in a familiar way with the owner either, but somehow I think he might have been a regular too..  I wondered about him....

For Poets United Poetry Pantry.

Fear - a "modified triolet"

Vanessa Mallory

Fear - a "modified triolet"

When I become afraid to leap
I lose my will to ponder deep
thus what I sow I also reap
when I become afraid to leap
hills become impassably steep
I lose the dreams you strove to keep
when I become afraid to leap
I lose my will to ponder deep.

The candle has burned down again
I strive to write with fading pen
I pray for answers say amen
The candle has burned down again
I seek answers but don't know when
my troubles multiply by ten
the candle has burned down again
I strive to write with fading pen.


This is written for Brian's prompt at dVerse MTB.  I will call the above a 'modified triolet,' as all lines in each stanza rhyme...unlike the 'official triolet."  Smiles.  The first, fourth, and seventh line of the first stanza come from this former triolet of mine: To Leap, but I changed the original 'you' to "I."  The first, fourth, and seventh line of the second stanza come from this former triolet of mine:   Year's End.        

Fashion

Fashion

Fashion is a statement you make
how you want others to see you
and how you feel inside.

Fashion can be bold red
and say notice me I am unique
or it can be understated blue.

Fashion can be comfortable
and casual and universal
can be I don't give a damn.

Fashion can be expensive
or cheap or in between
fashion is a state of mind.

Fashion walks and talks
it will always find its way
fashion walks on cobblestone.

Fashion unifies and divides
judges and destroys
fashion will change you.


This poem is written for MidWeek Motif, where the prompt is Fashion.  I will also submit it to dVerse for my own prompt there, where we are writing to the wonderful photos of Totomai Martinez.  All photos are Totomai's!! They are used with permission.  Please check out his photostream!

Stapled Pencil

Stapled Pencil


I often write with stapled pencil
so little original to me anymore

I am pretense feigning new
a dry well who yearns for profundity

fighting to keep elusive flames alive
I shed fresh light on recycled thoughts

my stapled pencil hungers for words
in search of a unique perspective

though words are elusive I will pursue
joys only stapled pencil can bring

because there still are the words
indeed it is always about  words

my spirit pines to persevere
the stapled pencil will endure.

This is written with 2 prompts in mind.  First, it is written
for Gabriella's prompt on "Writing" over at Poetry Jam,
and also for my own prompt using Totomai Martinez'
poetry at dVerse Poetics.

Leaving

"Behind 2" - by Totomai Martinez

Leaving

When he decided to leave
he left with no glance back
and once he made up his mind
he had no regrets, nothing to pack

As he climbed well-worn stairs
out of his former life
he didn't even give a nod
to all that had caused him strife

Some decisions take a while
habits are entrenched deep
not easy  to choose a new path
to climb a staircase steep

Once he made up his mind
he had no regrets, nothing to pack
when he decided to leave
he left with no glance back.


This was written for Tuesday's  dVerse Poetics - where we are writing today to the photos of Totomai Martinez!

Journey

Journey

It is people we think about
connections made
meanings shared
trust achieved
as we wonder what will hold
and what will dissolve

when present becomes past
we move on
each with his own dreams
and his own reasons
somewhere into the future
kicking and screaming

but without change
we all stagnate
or things fade away
until we wake up one day
and wonder what happened
to the people we think about

connections made
meanings shared
trust achieved
and the realization
that we must move on
we simply must.

This is written for Poets United Poetry Pantry.

TenWords for dVerse

Basil

TenWords for dVerse

Dog barks loudly
at midnight
who is there
I wonder

Dog is telepathic
always knows
it is rice cooker
time

Dog can spot
distant deer
even I cannot
easily see

Dog owns all land
it can see
on the horizon

Dog is always
waiting for someone
to drop a crumb.

Dog finds a way
to inspire me
to play fetch

Dog lies in a sunny spot
on the cool carpet.

Dog snuggles
inside my sweatshirt
who will warm whom

Today we are writing TenWords at dVerse - a form invented by Brian Miller & presented by Victoria again today!

Comfy Shoes

I never am one for fancy shoes
red high heels or those with glitter
I'd rather wear a well-worn pair
comfortable on my feet.

I choose shoes I can walk in
Converse or Tevas preferred
Birkenstocks or Nikes that are
comfortable on my feet.

A pair of dress shoes awaits
for an occasional event but
best of all is no shoes at all
comfortable on my feet.

This is written for the prompt at Poetry Jam:  Shoes or Feet.

Woman

The Black Feather Hat
Gustav Klimt

Woman

She knew her own mind
a woman ahead of her time
paid no heed to convention
didn't follow anyone's rules

outcast among women
pariah among men
admired by only a few
she lived as she wished

she spat in the street
smoked Cuban cigars
cursed like a sailor
chose whiskey over tea

in a room of her own
she kept her own counsel
she kept all her secrets
until she died...alone.

This was written for Poets United Poetry Pantry....just for fun.

The Green Bird

The Green Bird

Wandering along paths
in the dusty, scrub-brush
I saw a tiny bird
flit past me and vanish
pale, bright-green
the color of just-opened leaves
before the sun darkens them
so fast I couldn't find it again
I tried to follow where
it had disappeared

No one knew its name
without a name I had nothing
no neat, labeled place
in my experience

Instead it flits, nameless
through my memory
without a trace
I call it "Ti Oiseau"
"little bird" in Creole
tropical rhythms of calypso.

This is written for Bjorn's prompt at dVerse Meeting the Bar where we are writing 'black-out poetry.'  I used a page from the book The Blessing by Gregory Orr.  See below:

Seven Ages

"Seven Ages of Man" --
Queen Victoria Street, London

The words below are written with 'apologies' to William Shakespeare who wrote about the seven ages of man in "As You Like It." Mine is a 'modern' version in seven stanzas as well!


Seven Ages

As infants we live
by mother's care
we eat and sleep
without despair

As children we play
and go to school
and learn to live
the golden rule

As teens we learn
just who we are
we jest and test
and seek our star

As adulthood begins
it's love we seek
and eventually find
a partner unique

In our middle age
responsibility and stress
much to accomplish
to achieve success

Retirement time comes
before we know
days for renewal
to play learn and grow

Old age comes full circle
it takes us by surprise
but if we are lucky
we have a peaceful demise


Written for Poets United Midweek Motif on the prompt - SEVEN!

Listen

Listen

Listen to
the patter of raindrops
the rhythm of waves
the bark of the coyote
the call of a loon.

Listen to
snowflakes that fall
the clouds that drift by
the scurry of squirrels
the stream that flows.

Listen to
the message you hear
the words that reveal
the call of the word
the song in your heart.

Hold your beloved close
listen to their heartbeat
listen to your heartbeat
feel the warmth
of being alive.

This is written for Alan's prompt at Poetry Jam.  He had us choose one word for 2015 and write a poem about it.  I chose 'listen' which was the same word Alan chose.  Sounded good to me.

FACING Future

Nick Gentry - "Omega"
(from old floppy disks)

FACING Future

Looking forward
I am clothed in my past
its fragments form me
but do not define me.

I see the future
view the challenge ahead
know future will change
my exterior fragments

         but not my soul.


This is written for Grace's prompt at dVerse Poetics where we are writing to the artwork of Nick Gentry.  A quote from Nick:  "The idea that really captivates me is history; or to be more precise, time. No matter how much we try to understand or preserve time by recording moments, it remains a complete mystery. Really our only way to make sense of the present is to reference the past, so I’m interested in the way time affects objects and our connections with those objects."

Time

Time

There is time that we use
time that we waste
time that we abide
awaiting what comes next

while adrift in the current
or reclining on the beach
wondering which direction
the breeze will blow

nonetheless time passes
we squander the moments
neglect thoughts of tomorrow
drink in the lure of today

until we read the signs of time
at last find words to speak
hold our breath and jump deep
no hesitation to swim the stream

as if future depends on it
and indeed it does now that
the new calendar year has begun
and it is time to forge the way.

This poem is written for the first Poets United  Poetry Pantry of 2015.  Time marches on.