Tag Archives: poetry

To Ask for Help

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reaching_out_by_starlight679-d38ecbz

The inside of your mind is torn

you ache for someone’s guidance

yet thrusted hand keeps them away

retained, a thunderous silence

 

Problems stem from holding back

and keeping troubles bound

The tigers growl, the gators snap

the lions, they surround

 

Isn’t is a comfort, though

to feel a warming hand

rest softly on your shoulder, stilled,

a yearn without demand?

 

To ask for help, there’s nothing wrong

seek others for direction

in grief or pain or lover’s quarrel

or self-imposed rejection

 

Why hold fast those troubled woes?

Let others help unleash

the honks of monsters, a demons fear,

a sorrow, then released

 

photo credit

Honk

 

 

Plain or Pretty – we can all relate to this

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A reminder about the challenges of growing into ourselves.

Unknown
I learned the truth at seventeen
That love was meant for beauty queens
And high school girls with clear skinned smiles
Who married young and then retired
The valentines I never knew
The Friday night charades of youth
Were spent on one more beautiful
At seventeen I learned the truth
And those of us with ravaged faces
Lacking in the social graces
Desperately remained at home
Inventing lovers on the phone
Who called to say “come dance with me”
And murmured vague obscenities
It isn’t all it seems at seventeen
A brown eyed girl in hand me downs
Whose name I never could pronounce
Said: “pity please the ones who serve
They only get what they deserve”
The rich relationed hometown queen
Marries into what she needs
With a guarantee of company
And haven for the elderly
So remember those who win the game
Lose the love they sought to gain
In debitures of quality and dubious integrity
Their small-town eyes will gape at you
In dull surprise when payment due
Exceeds accounts received at seventeen
To those of us who knew the pain
Of valentines that never came
And those whose names were never called
When choosing sides for basketball
It was long ago and far away
The world was younger than today
When dreams were all they gave for free
To ugly duckling girls like me…
We all play the game, and when we dare
We cheat ourselves at solitaire
Inventing lovers on the phone
Repenting other lives unknown
That call and say: “come on, dance with me”
And murmur vague obscenities
At ugly girls like me, at seventeen
                    by Janis Ian
photo credit
daily post prompt: Dubious

It Began as a Stroll

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It began as a stroll

both hand in hand

until she said no,

taking a stand

 

He turned to her face

and yelled some rude words

She knew right away

the man was absurd

 

Confident now

about the division

she strutted away

and praised her decision

 

IMG_2800 2

 

Painting by CD-W

daily word prompt: Strut

Critter Clocks

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He sat and pondered on his couch

engrossed by such a  day

the clock forgot to set itself

and the shadows ran astray

 

He’d sat enthralled much earlier

inside a chicken coop

grew feathers on his arms and legs

and hollered out a “whoop!”

 

No chicken soup tonight, he thought

those birds might yell at me

gingerly, of course they would,

but not a guarantee

 

The plumes were gone but there he sat

in room with critter clocks

Ben was clever, and Ben was glad

to live outside a box.

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Painting by CD-W (1 of 3 in my Ben series)

 

daily word prompt: Gingerly

Nothing to Fear

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Don’t be afraid

open the window

let in the air

Take a peek inside, see

hearts and ire

candles and daggers

roses and soot

monuments and ruins

a fortress and a tennament

a marauder and a Nobel

thunderstorms and clear skies

an anchor and a lifeboat

You are all of these

Open your window

let in the air

see you faults and graces,

your discord and harmony

Learn

Feel

Accept

And when you do

There is nothing to fear

on Armistice Day.

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painting by CD-W

 

Weekly Photo Prompt: Peek

When the Party’s Over

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When the party’s over

where to go from here?

curl into a den of woe

and wait to disappear?

Breaths of life sustains me

when others fill my room

without their presence, the lonely heart

retreats within the womb

Why must I be so absent

in the carriage of myself

that I sit so idly dormant

on a dusty solo shelf

Do only I allow to see

myself through other’s eyes?

Surely there’s another way

than gowns that glamorize.

 

IMG_2722 (1)

 

 

Damn Straight!

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I don’t ride a horse

I don’t shoot a gun

I eat Mexican food and barbecue

and bask in Texas sun

I don’t say “ain’t”

I don’t chew or spit

I can put on a Texas drawl, y’all

but only when it fits

I don’t own an oil gusher

Still,  I’ve got my Texas roots

I can play blackjack, kick back

sportin’ western boots.

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First rate?

Damn straight!

 

painting by CD-W