Tag Archives: i wrote ten poems

10 Poems in 20 Minutes (1-24)

I tried to write a poem today, but couldn’t get started. So instead I gave myself a time limit. I’m not sure if it was worth it.

I Wrote 10 Poems in 20 Minutes
Day: January 24th

Poem 1:
They must not realize
They can’t.
Everyday an insult
A slight
Something that hurts somewhere.
I can get used it.
I don’t have a choice.

Poem 2:
I took down the Christmas decorations
Because I was told.
If you tell me,
I’ll do it.
But it will have no heart.
Only the work there.
All the work I do,
I tell myself to,
So there’s holiday missing somewhere else.

Poem 3:
He told me I was cute.
I don’t want to be,
I want beauty.
I settle
For this thing you give me
You give me the want
To put on makeup.
I want to change me for you.

Poem 4:
Only for winter
In my tired brain
It says:
Never leave here please
Stay where it’s warm
You don’t have to go
It’s all here
I can protect you here
It can’t go wrong.
But I have to get up to eat.

Poem 5:
Eating Thai
He says I like flied lice.
I look at his wife.
She says, it’s just silliness,
With her shoulders.
I stare at her.
She tells me to calm down
With a tug at a frown.
I eat my meal paid by her
And hate myself for not saying.

Poem 6:
If and when
I call you on the phone
Don’t give me advice
When I complain.
Just listen, please.
I know the things you say
Are right
True and proper.
But I don’t care.
I want to complain.
Listen to me whine.
Don’t make it better,
Don’t try.
Let me cry please
Without making it wrong.
By saying you shouldn’t
By improving me.

Poem 7:
My experience should mean little
To who I am.
My worth, I mean.
I may have lived under a great big house.
But you do not tease me for things I have not done.
You cannot know me,
Or find out why I did not do
What you seem fit to push me for.
You do not joke about my value that way.
Do not call me a child, baby, little girl,
For you do not know, I haven’t told you,
And now never will.

Poem 8:
I want.
For sure I want.
Wanted hasn’t happened here with envy in so long.
Sit with me when I’m sick.
I feel bad alone.

Poem 9:
I didn’t do what I should have done
In your eyes.
I don’t know if I could see through your vision.
You don’t try to understand anyone:
Your way is best.
They should all see it my way.
It’s simple, and direct,
Don’t have to think about all that they seem to be saying.

Poem 10:
He said,
Thank you.
I said, no problem.
I hate you in my heart.
But I’m polite.
Never confuse kindness with polite.
One is curtsey
One doesn’t exist without motive.

10 Poems in 20 Minutes (Day Thirty)

I’ve written ten poems in twenty minutes for thirty days in a row. That means I’ve written three hundred poems. It seems impossible. Points to anyone who’s read them all.

10 Poems in 20 Minutes
Day 30

Poem 1:
To find a place to sit
Answer to no one
Rock in a chair
Feel less constant guilt

Poem 2:
When he or she is goodmooded
I sneer
Waiting for the anger to return
Because the happy makes the mad worse
I know it’s there waiting

Poem 3:
She said how are you
For just a second I thought
Maybe she cared
Duty to ask
Dutiful answer

Poem 4:
She was the envy of the other housewives
Not because she had no husband
But because his sorry-death money
Meant she didn’t have to work

Poem 5:
I use to yell at myself
When I change my mind
When I sit and stare
When I don’t know
Not good enough

Poem 6:
It’s all going to go like this
Forever I’ll be waiting for next
And these same fears will stick with me
Problems now, issues later
I’m never going to resolve
Just end
I’d like to exchange my fears and hopes for someone else’s cards
Just to try them out
See if their hand gives me more peace of mind

Poem 7:
If I had my confidence now
When I sat down at the new lunch table
I would have sauntered
Made friends
Not sat with my plastic bag
And ants

Poem 8:
Threadbare doesn’t make sense to you
Until you’ve felt it on your skin
Then the wind

Poem 9:
That damn stupid dog
She can’t stand to eat now
Her paw curls under
Broken neurons or whatever
Bone and brain cancer maybe
She’s doped up
She cried on the floor of the kitchen in front of her food
Stop watching me wait for her to die

Poem 10:
I dip my hand in my head. Pull up a memory.
It’s a good one, I remember.
Grandpa convinced me that watermelon seeds would grow in my belly.
I got so nervous, but no one would tell me truth, they just laughed.
And I was still so careful to avoid the black pellets, in case.
The tablecloth was blue and stained, my bowl with the heart and dot print.
I remember all the times I’ve pulleyed this one to the surface.
Each time with a grim sort of smile.
First realizing he was teasing.
Next figuring out many people tease children.
Then seeing I was pretty little.
Hearing the myth about seeds growing many times.
Knowing in class that seeds don’t grow in bellies, acid.
Understanding that teasing, for him, showed caring.
Missing relatives.
As if the memory is less important than all the times I’ve remembered it.
I follow my thoughts, grow with my stomach size.