Depression monitors my movements
eyes me from across the road, waits
I struggle to define myself, here
at the margins of life, career lost
As teacher, days were outlined
bells, rubrics, and semesters
Now I must learn again, find
purpose in nothingness
Despair wants to move in, overwhelm
But I’m building my fences, regaining
routines – markers motivating
each day – a reason for being.
(This poem is a response to my weekly challenge: define but don’t reveal. Image my own.)
Plump the lips
pad the ass,
pull abs in
Push-up bras
and false eyelash,
botox, and brows
Make us pretty
much less witty –
do not overdo
Natural is rave
naked is yuck –
to find perfection
choose a routine
that sculpts and
shapes, then lie.
(dVerse quadrille prompt is yuck, Ragtag Community is plump, Fandango offers routine, Daily Addictions is apparent.)
Friend, you guide
my brain-fogged,
somnambulist limbs –
like a mindless automaton;
I follow, barely registering
movement – grateful for
deliverance into the
fullness of day.
Once, I abhorred
your consistency,
your stifling repetition,
found your dependency
mind-numbing, soulless –
suffocated in your lack
of notoriety – called you
unremarkable.
Undaunted, you persist,
morally unbiased, life-
affirming, ignoring
lethargy’s blood-
sucking hold, lifting
me, comforting,
habitually reliable,
blessed routine.
One Woman's Quest 