Never joined a sorority,
irked by the concept
of conformity…
Besides, those girls
flirted with audacity,
while my self-image
was frail, shattered by
the fraternity next door.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
Never joined a sorority,
irked by the concept
of conformity…
Besides, those girls
flirted with audacity,
while my self-image
was frail, shattered by
the fraternity next door.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
I’m being a good girl, Dad
Staying out of sight
Keeping my needs to a minimum
Promise I don’t cry, Dad.
I’m being a good wife, Dad
Cooking all his favourites
Letting him walk ahead
Never uttering a peep, Dad
I’m a perfect background wife, Dad
Just like you taught me; just like Mom
Only no one has to hit me to make me
behave, Dad; I learned it good from you.
(Image my own)
A child like me
doesn’t believe
in wishes –
bruises a reminder
that wishes are bombs
Don’t ask me to dream –
eyes fixed on escape –
give me a nook
where I can hide –
buy one more day.
(Image my own)
Too much black
Too much colour;
Fashion out of sync
Too many calories
Extra weight a turnoff
Comparisons cut deep
Stay close;
Stop being anti-social;
Friendliness invites abuse
Children need their mother
How do you plan to pay?
Better find a job.
Never enough
Beaten by criticism
A lonely marriage
Control suffocates
Narcissism cares not
Road is dead-end
Break free
Take the leap
True love begins with self.
(Image my own)
How long the soil
housed tiny souls, pleas ignored –
crimes leave footprints
Plant a rose for each child
blood red to mark evil’s path.
(Image my own. Poem borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson)
It’s just a moth, I offered
that blue moon night
rattling windows
chafing nerves
We’d chosen exile –
sister and I – refuge
from family demons,
not ours to claim
Innocence borrows
responsibility – I bore
it like a badge;
she shattered
Could not discriminate
darkness from her own
inner light – sought
to end the fury
I’ll carry us both,
I murmured, too young
to recognize the magnitude –
altruism destined to fail.
She’s buried now
beneath the madness
her mind the moth
slamming against my pain.
(Image my own.)
Tired of same old endings
in which hopes are slaughtered
and tragedy and insanity win.
Raised by the bottle, learned
to set standards low –
still afraid of heights –
have fallen as the ground
beneath my aspirations crumbled –
a certainly under alcohol’s rule.
Tired of same old endings
in which self is battered by indifference
and ego loses the battle for control.
Mother’s denial a coping mechanism
negating children’s need, obliterating
safety, disregarding long-term damage;
even in older years, when we tried
to get her out, were powerless against
his manipulation, his eternal imprinting.
Tired of same old endings
in which the heroine, resources spent
succumbs to the madness, suicides.
Want to believe in a future, greener,
hopeful, in which relationships
are fulfilling, and life goals are
supported; in which encouragement
is not the ploy of deviousness, and
personal best is rewarded, sustained.
Tired of same old endings
haunting my dreaming hours
unforgotten in waking dreams.
(Tired of Same Old Endings first appeared here June of 2018.
Edited for this submission. Linking up with Reena’s Xploration
Challenge: insanity, and Eugi’s Weekly Prompt: unforgotten.
Image my own.)
Father taught us to fetch –
What else are children for?
I did not like his demeaning sneer
nor the way he lorded control
Mother learned to ask how high
when he snapped: “Jump!”
I vowed to be different
to never let him break me
But his arms were stronger
and my fear real, and so
From my father, I’ve learned to fetch –
Anything else I can get you, Dear?
(Ragtag’s Daily Prompt, hosted by Sgeoil is fetch. Image my own.)
Some memories
too dark
lie buried
beneath this hide
Secreted
to forgotten chambers
I obsess over ideologies
crave peace
Only an archeological dig
can set that dream in motion.
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson.
Image my own.)
Raised in a battlefield
quantity doled out
in abuse, quality
not yet defined
Now I write myself
out of the darkness
each chapter
an uphill climb
Page by page
reconciliation
no shortage of words
value between lines.
(Image my own.)