Tag Archives: wrote

The Poem I Wrote Today #5

A woman told me today I would be ok,
I met her just now,
She said it like she cared,
I believed her
I put my arm in front of my chest
I held her off.
Because it couldn’t be.
A stranger, this woman, couldn’t care more than blood.
None of my own
See me like this woman here
Who isn’t paid to like me
But cared because she could.
And I wasn’t quiet,
I was myself
For the woman I met today
Who told me I could be ok.
And she asked me same time next week?
From behind the appointment desk.

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,
Protected.
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.
Please.
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.

The Depression in the Family

I went for blunt. The subversive, walk around it, can’t hurt her feelings, not sure I should say this, didn’t work last time. So I sent her a text. It read, “Mom says your depressed?” This time around, I wasn’t going to spare her feelings of inadequacy. We were going to talk about it. Because it has to be better this way. She has to know I can listen, because I know what’s going on. I’m gong to make normalcy out of the situation. It’ll be more comfortable for her, and she’ll talk more. That time a couple years ago, she wouldn’t talk to us about it. Now she has to. Because I asked her. I asked her directly.

gif saying i think we should talk about this

but i’m not sure how

She sent a text back. “Lol, that’s correct.” She sent the text back within the minute.
I had to make sure she wasn’t as bad as last time. I tried to remember what it felt like in that dark. Because I thought it would connect us. “Oh that sucks. How bad on a scale of bell jar to rocks in pockets?”
I got a text back two minutes later. “Um it’s in waves from mild inertia to contemplating ovens with new found interest.”
“No deep black holes of doom?” I tried to keep it lighthearted. I worried that if it became too serous she’d shut down on me.

gif of a black hole of depression

it’ll eat you, careful

“A bit.” I thought she’d run with my joke. I thought she’d talk about being a spaceship drifting or make an Apollo 13 or David Bowie joke. But she’d said, “a bit.” I wanted to scream and call her right then. I told myself to be calm and stay light.
“Goodness how dreadful. I’m so sorry. Anything helping?” I didn’t know how to help. It was too late to ask her if there was someway I could do anything when you’re spiraling down.
“I’m eating chocolate pecan pie from our local neighborhood bakery.”

gif of a piece of pie

a piece makes all the difference

So she was ok. She knew what was wrong. She took steps to prevent and cope. When she got here for Christmas, I could see for myself. She can hide behind texts, but not my eyes. We’ll make sure she’s better then.

Another One Told Me This

Don’t tell me to think I’m beautiful,
Like it’s a gift,
Like I should,
Because you’re the first to say it, you think.
My strength comes from me.
Don’t lecture me about how pretty I am.
I’m not very pretty.
It’s fine.
It doesn’t bother me anymore.
It just is.
You can say all women are beautiful.
But it’s a line you think you should say.
You don’t know me well enough to say I’m beautiful.
You think all women should think they’re beautiful.
Like all people should have confidence.
And that you’re God’s gift because you can tell this girl
This one right here
How pretty she is.
And that will make it all better
You can fix her sadness if she knows she’s pretty.

How Great You Were

It used to be you
That no matter who I talked to
I was talking to you.
But not anymore
I almost wish I was back there.
Where I thought you the greatest,
But I’m glad not to wear the acolyte robes
For the great priestess anymore.
I can see your loose seams now,
And I can speak to everyone I want.

A Thought on My Parents

If I have children who meet my parents, they’ll never know them as I knew them. Those people are gone. They’ll not recognize the soft, cuddly, chubby Mom I grew up with, who wore few bras and had short curled hair. They won’t know my father with these strange eye magnifying glasses. He hasn’t said it yet, but I’m waiting. I wait for the phrase, “I’d like to be able to play with my grandchildren.” They won’t know them without the pains in their knees and backs. They won’t know them without those added years of I-could-have-done piling on guilt from time. They’ll only know the wrinkles, never to see how beautiful my Mom could be. And then they’ll die while my kids are in college, and my kids will care. But not really, they never really knew them before their minds went. Never had the chance. The kids were too young. They had me too late. It’s too late to know them.

That might not be bad after all. Maybe I can dull all they the messups they did to me through a filter for the next ones down. If they never meet the originals, they can’t spread the fire of self-hate they gave to their children. If I can’t see them, I won’t be them. I have a chance to be better for me and mine.

A Little Story for Black Friday

I wrote a little story just now. I thought, maybe, I’d share it.

Duke came from a very fancy family. But he felt bad. He didn’t mean to get born into a such a world as this. He would rather sit in his corner and dig a hole where no one can find him. He tried to be quiet and small. No one could ever see him. He could melt into the furniture without a sound. He felt bad he wasn’t as tall as his brother. It made him feel upset someone only got one thing on their birthday. His mom told him, “be thankful.” He tried. He didn’t think he could be more full of thanks. Mom says, “you’re so lucky, when I was little we had to share boxes of chocolates.” Duke didn’t understand; his brother took his box of chocolates. Duke felt bad his shoes fit well, and he got new ones when they got holes in the bottom. He didn’t deserve it. Duke felt bad no one talked to him because his dad was important. Duke huddled in his coat so no one saw him feel bad. He didn’t want anyone else to feel bad for his feel-badding.

The Poems I Wrote Today (November 27th)

I Wrote 10 Poems One After the Other
Day November 27th

Poem 1:
Home for Thanskgiving
But after I moved for school
Dad moved for work
And now I travel four hours to be
Home for Thanksgiving.
He said don’t feel obligated to come and see me
But I think I should, so I did.
And here I am
With all it’s quietness and hot food
In someone else’s house for Thanksgiving.

Poem 2:
He went through so much work for us
Made all these dishes on all these plates I never saw otherwise
This ceremony he takes up, otherwise shunned the pop of cultural
So we ate, but she usually had a cold
And would lean over to say
I can’t taste any of this,
Then tell him how great it all was.
He cooked because his mother cooked on the same day.

Poem 3:
I shouldn’t have been driving
I slept in my daydreams only
And I ran into the snow
Little flakes flew off at first
Then it stuck
I should have pulled over
Kept saying at this one the next exit
Behind blurring red dots of a FedEx guy.
If I’d ‘ve stopped I would have stayed stuck
Like after a while I couldn’t change lanes
Because of the ice in the middle,
Keep yourself there.

Poem 4:
I don’t mind you at all
I won’t have that all consuming passion
But I won’t mind
You’ll be there for a while
You can have me for a bit
Then give all my me back when I leave, please.
I’ll promise to give you back your change.
But I won’t mind, I don’t think.
I never expected to be attached,
Just scared to have no strings.

Poem 5:
And now, it’s been too long since I’ve seen people
I get all jittery
And giggly and I’ve lost all my charms
To be relearned to be with friends
If you’re around the vain who won’t let you talk.
I have to remember I’m worth a glance.
When I see a friend tomorrow.

Poem 6:
I love the space between Thanksgiving and Christmas
Not either of the holidays themselves
But just the stuff that goes around them.
Well I guess why
Is that we all seem to be thinking something like the same thing.
And I feel closer to the girl siting next to me.

Poem 7:
I’m so cold I can’t sleep
I wait for it to take me
So I’m less cold
Or forget I’m cold
Or something
Beyond
It’s cold.

Poem 8:
I flit across a memory
One I don’t want there
My hands freeze up
And I stare at what I was only looking.
I say, I’ll put this in a box
I have a case in my mind full of wands and witches and bits of rubber
They hold all my boxes
Some with extra tape
All the times I’ve fell.

Poem 9:
I need a buffer with me
For most people
Stand over,
Yes, right,
There.
In their way, in front of me.

Poem 10:
The first time I disagreed with my father
I learned I was wrong.
And just how wrong I was
With citations and page references
Footnotes and verse
There was no other option.

The Poem I Wrote Today

He said this to me.
It’s your fault I went back to smoking.
He did not say this to me once.
Accused a 12 year old girl,
Who still thought it was wrong she bled,
I made him hurt himself,
I believed.
He must have been so desperate to control,
I must have started to see him.

10 Poems in 20 Minutes (Day One Hundred)

This is the final day I’ll be writing ten poems in twenty minutes. From now on I’ll post the poems I write, but there won’t be a time limit or set number.

Thank you so much to those of you who’ve read my poems, because it means a lot to me.

For the final day of ten in twenty, I thought I’d write each poem about someone I know, I won’t dedicate the poem to them, because it may not be flattering, but I’ll try to keep it true. Here we go.

I Wrote 10 Poems in 20 Minutes
Day 100

Poem 1:
My Mother
You told me first,
I was beautiful.
You didn’t mean it from the mirror’s point of view,
You meant it because I was yours.
You had made me, and I look like you.
You love me for looking like you,
But not for who I am.

Poem 2:
My Father
He says, I see you all grown up
And I get flashes back to when you were little
He said, it’s hard to tell the difference, and remember.
But you’ve never remembered,
You treated me as background and expected.
I don’t think it’s purposeful, you talking down,
You do it to everyone who’s not as smart as you,
But the little girl in the white cherry dress who flounces,
She doesn’t have a chair in your mind
To sit and talk over the table.

Poem 3:
My Sister
She wants to make me perfect
Who she wanted herself to be
And mom reminded her, I’m the Mom here.
She was so proud I turned out well,
A nicer version of mini-me, you said.
But you taught me that people who love me
Tell me what to fix,
And disregard you if you make a mistake.
You taught me with your being,
That I should be better,
Unacceptable, as is.
That’s never gone away.

Poem 4:
My Brother
I don’t know you yet
Except that when I got back from school
You shoulders turned to boulders
And you couldn’t sing falsetto anymore.
You don’t seem to care much,
About grades, or propriety, family, or kindness,
I hope when you find something to care about
You can make something of yourself.
But the way you don’t seem to mind Mom’s insults
Makes me think you’ll be happier than us all
For living through the torment of being alone in the house.

Poem 5:
My Step-Father
I look at you and sneer.
I don’t remember why I feel revulsion anymore,
But it’s there unerring and unending.
You never placed yourself in another’s position,
Never thought, if I do this, she’ll feel this,
Or if I say this, x will happen.
There’s one good thing that comes from your being in the house,
Always angry, fuming, smoking, not drinking beers,
I can read a temper from across the room
I easily pick out who can hurt me from expressions alone,
I have you to thank for that.

Poem 6:
My Friend A—
I thought you were so strange
But you taught me that if you think someone’s strange
You’re in the wrong.
Your mind is faster than mine,
But not nearly as funny.
I’ve never gotten tired of you,
The only thing I fear when I’m talking to you
Is that I’ll have to leave soon.
You are light.

Poem 7:
My Friend B—
Someone once accidentally insulted you
While I was standing there holding grape soda
And you looked right at them,
Said, “what do you mean.”
You stood there, with brown ringlet hair
And questioned them until it was clear what they had done,
What you felt,
And what they meant.
That’s a power few women have.
I salute you for it.
You have no sense of the gray
You cannot say,
Perhaps.
You’ve never thought
To say
That’s beautiful,
I see your beauty. To the painting on the wall.

Poem 8:
My friend C—
I like you because you talk to me
Tease me,
Make me see myself as ridiculous,
And can photoshop cupcakes into robot’s hands faster than I can.
I like you because I can never know for sure
I don’t like you
Because you keep yourself so far away.

Poem 9:
To My Dead Dog
I never really liked you, you know,
I can talk to her because she’s dead,
But we understood each other
Understanding is a better kind of magic than love
It kept us going
When you couldn’t get up the stairs, or out the door
When you howled in pain from the cancer in your spine,
When you lost control of your back leg,
I brought you food and water dishes,
Petted your graying beige fur
And I sand to you all the songs in the world.

Poem 10:
To Me
I don’t know what it is you’re doing.
There’s so much more you should be
Could be
Would be
If you weren’t so damn scared.
But that’s fine,
Stay in your house,
Cover yourself in quilts of blue flowers
Forget all you might have done,
If you could have just.