or Connect
New Posts  All Forums:Forum Nav:

Poetry

post #1 of 22
Thread Starter 
This is a safe place to post your poetry. Poems can be about anything, not limited to motherhood or parenting...be creative and in this thread I ask that there be no feedback except unless the poet has specifically asked for it.

I can't wait to read
post #2 of 22
Ash Grey Ascension


Climbing into the cavern created
long before I understood the mythology of friends
a story quieter than I recalled yesterday
sleep dragging me into a soft flutter
breathing over my shoulder
warm and foggy, until the tingle
opens my eyes, tangled
amongst running from monsters and a deep silent lull
forested in the rolling hills, skirted grass
dripping from rain slick fingers
not stopping-louder, louder, screaming
the circle tumbling until legs stumble
bodies piled atop
Here I am wondering if I can stand
next to it, inside it-before the last crumble
of sanctity wraps neatly in my palms
the present I never asked for
never received
oft-forgotten pleas rambling in drunken sleep
anxiety beating farther,
nimbly grasping fingers sliding into place tonight
before the last ash flies into soldered night
not quite waiting
and it’ll still be morning, hands outstretched
pulling one foot before the other
landing before I remember why.


**I'm just getting back into writing after a 5yr haitus(ie kiddos). I feel like I have a million cobwebs in the brain to wipe out. Feedback welcomed!
post #3 of 22
I enjoyed it. keep typing!
post #4 of 22
here's my newest, feedback always appreciated

God’s baby

Sneering, lucid animal
Tears at your dresses, masks tape on your mouth
You stand at the front of the classroom and hear their taunts
It is the dilemma of strange girls to be pressed up against brick hallways
While eager horny males examine you like a science project
You look at the clock and plan your exit
You mind works out the details and hopes you should be so lucky
While the man in the corner with the glasses
Refuses to look you in the eye, and grades papers
Barely able to touch yourself in the shower
You nap all day, they don’t notice you anyway
And eat alone while parents lay behind locked doors
And then at 3, there is him
Who digs into you as your mind goes out
You are held to these chains by rings
And lip glosses and prom dresses dance uncomfortably
You cannot lurk in these skins
Young girls take large doses of Tylenol
Smoke cigarettes from plump young lips
And bleed ferociously in the nurse’s office
Abdomen twanged and pulsating
Later that weekend in back seats
Hand brakes against our spines
We hold our Mary medals
Look up through the sunroof and wonder if we
Dare step off the cliff
The white wall of death impenetrable
But walk past heavy stares near lockers
Whispering younglings giggle and sting
These things we do not question
Our legacy born
Pink satin and lace to be trimmed
Our teased up hairs and perfumed breasts
That which we bear stays no recourse
Such are we as soon as we bleed.
post #5 of 22
Joanna this is really good and the reason I say this is because it has given me a pit in my stomach...you know...a knot...the kind you get when you're worried or getting caught doing something wrong. It reminds me of my not so pleasant teenage memories and of shame and fear. It makes me feel sad and alone. And for all these aweful feelings your poem drudges up for me...this is why it is so good.

Angela.
post #6 of 22
I've been working on this particular piece in my head for about a week now...finally got it down. I'd appreciate feedback...The title I'm not sure of. At first I had put untitled but dh said "only lazy people untitle their work!" so I titled it!!!! What do you think? Sometimes I feel a piece of writing can stand on it's own without a title.??????



What We've Become

She awakes
Electromagnetic energies
Surge through her
Sound
Beeps
Not natural
Pierce her sleep.
Shuts the alarm
The plastic cold
Under her painted plastic nails.
Slips her feet
Smooth legs
Waxed yesterday
Slip softly
Into polyester slippers.

Fits big silicone breasts
Into underwire
Bra
Puts on
Aluminum deodorant
Aerosol hairspray
Makes up her face
She's ready for the day.
Grabs her coffee
Her chemical sweetner
In her plastic carry mug.

Steps out
Into smog and rain
Her plastic coat
Keeps her dry.
Drives her plastic car
While her angel sits in plastic carseat
Sucking plastic bottle
Clutching plastic doll
Waiting for the plastic park
where she will play.

Smiles at other mothers
Fake smile
Teeth whitened
Just last week.
Digital mozart
Fills the air
Plastic radiation
Hello?
Fake laugh.
Pulls out of pocket
Plastic bag
Chemical colored candy.
It's all too sweet.

Closing eyes at night
Closed eyes
Closed mind
Ignorance
In it's highest form.
Pray
To a form of higher self
A God
Is anyone there?
Empty
Empty thoughts
Empty life
Fills up with nothing.
Hope
For tomorrow
A better tomorrow
And wakes up again
The same as yesterday.
post #7 of 22
Thread Starter 
Quote:
Originally Posted by pinkmilk
Joanna this is really good and the reason I say this is because it has given me a pit in my stomach...you know...a knot...the kind you get when you're worried or getting caught doing something wrong. It reminds me of my not so pleasant teenage memories and of shame and fear. It makes me feel sad and alone. And for all these aweful feelings your poem drudges up for me...this is why it is so good.

Angela.
ITA
post #8 of 22
Thread Starter 
Pinkmilk, First of all, I love your poem and the sentiments behind it. The only feedback I have is about the repetition of the word 'plastic' throughout the poem. I must admit , that is one of my 'things', I think using different descriptive words would make the poem more powerful.

Peace*
post #9 of 22
I enjoyed it very much. I live in the subirbs of las vegas and I find it amazing just how true that is here.
post #10 of 22

The Welcome Mat

Why does he stand there like that
behind the door and the welcome mat?
"Welcome" it says but welcome is unheard
He says "LEAVE," now that's absurd
I just came for my child, my boy,
the son who fills my heart with joy.

He trembles with anger and fear
as he prays we won't see nor hear.
Truth is my sword, my blade
so "Good Day" to him I bade.
A knowing smile flashes on my lips.
My love is to his hate an eclipse.
I walk tall beside my best friend
because my honor he will always defend.



So, what do you think?


**Edited for an "oops"**
post #11 of 22
pinkmilk: I like it. I like the repitition. It's a plastic world.
post #12 of 22

where's my Daddy?

i posted this on single mamas, as well as a drug addiction forum. SMs suggested I post here. Sad but true...

I was born underwater
Eyes wide open
Searching the hushed room, my Mama's eyes,
The Universe.
Daddy said he knew I'd come when the lilacs bloomed.
Where was the beautiful deep voice that sang to me in Mama's belly?
Where were the strong hands that felt me move inside,
That promised to catch me and lift me into this new world?
Only one moon ago, he held up the tiny socks that I would soon wear, moist eyes and a sweet smile on his face.
It was Mama alone who pulled me to the surface,
Her face wet with sweat and tears of love and joy,
Tears of heartache and loss.
It's Mama alone who holds me so close at night,
Aching and wishing for the once strong body
Of the man she loves,
Who created me with so much anticipation and joy,
To materialize in the empty space beside us,
To hold us close again and sing us into sweet dreams.

AdaMae Margaret Sparrow Grace. Born 5/8/06.
Daddy disappeared down the dark road on April 29, never came back...
post #13 of 22
Samantha, I was truly moved by your poem. I'm so sorry that you lost your partner, your baby lost her daddy. That's just not fair.
post #14 of 22

Is this working? feedback appreciated :)

Mother Salt

“Salt, sodium chloride or common rock salt is dissolved in the same proportion to water in the Earth's oceans as it is in our blood, amniotic fluid and tears.”
-- “Salt of the Earth: Homeopathic Natrum Muriaticum” by Peggy Sawyer. Midwifery Today 68 (Winter 2004)


Since becoming a mother, my dreams are made of salt.
I watch nocturnal dolphins leap and soar
Amongst florid underwater landscapes -
Sunlight shoots wildly into the blue
My skin feels cool and smooth
And tastes like brine.

Diving into the waves,
I meet a giant gray octopus.
It waves its tentacles gracefully
In a slow-motion, watery dance -
My palm presses against rubbery, viscous flesh
I am engulfed in a slippery, saline embrace.

I have observed the flight path of whales -
The massive forms barreling silently
Through the ocean’s infinite depths.
Their whale-songs vibrate across the surface of my skin.
In dreams, I can breathe underwater.
My lungs expand with salty sea...
post #15 of 22
Thread Starter 
Leah, perhaps it's late but while having no constructive feedback, I love it, makes me want to go to the beach
post #16 of 22
I wrote this poem 9 days before my brother in law died of cancer and I think enough time and space has passed that I can address some of the things I don't like about it (most specifically the last verse which sounds contrived to me). This poem was written in about 3 minutes but I haven't even liked the ending.

Constructive criticism appreciated!

Steph


Protest Sleep
(for Ron)
Created on 8/3/98 10:19 PM

He is ever the philosopher
Even through the haze and drug-induced glaze
He speaks truth.

They call him by his baby name now
Even though he is a man grown and dying
He has for them become something to protect rather
than the protector
It makes him angry I see…to be thus coddled and
soothed
Like a toddler just learning to walk.

It grates his nerves to be the subject of conversation
rather than a participant…
A bystander, an onlooker
Lonely and alone living with a lifetime still in front
of him,
Children still young enough to need him.

He speaks about protest sleep,
Not fair, only goes so far
You can rail against the unkindness, the injustice so
long,
And then you sleep.

Not a good sleep because it comes from resignation
Can’t beat it, get around it, climb over or under or
through
Can’t win. Can’t even call a truce or a timeout
On it goes, to the end

Yet, sometimes we see the essence, the person though
bruised and battered
Still fighting, still strong,
Dignified and proud,
To the end
post #17 of 22
Quote:
Originally Posted by leahida
I am engulfed in a slippery, saline embrace.
Love that alliteration...very effective! I really liked the whole poem...very visual (and wow I have underwater dreams too LOL)

Steph
post #18 of 22
That is beautiful and sad. Congratulations on your wee girl!

Steph

Quote:
Originally Posted by samwitch
i posted this on single mamas, as well as a drug addiction forum. SMs suggested I post here. Sad but true...

I was born underwater
Eyes wide open
Searching the hushed room, my Mama's eyes,
The Universe.
Daddy said he knew I'd come when the lilacs bloomed.
Where was the beautiful deep voice that sang to me in Mama's belly?
Where were the strong hands that felt me move inside,
That promised to catch me and lift me into this new world?
Only one moon ago, he held up the tiny socks that I would soon wear, moist eyes and a sweet smile on his face.
It was Mama alone who pulled me to the surface,
Her face wet with sweat and tears of love and joy,
Tears of heartache and loss.
It's Mama alone who holds me so close at night,
Aching and wishing for the once strong body
Of the man she loves,
Who created me with so much anticipation and joy,
To materialize in the empty space beside us,
To hold us close again and sing us into sweet dreams.

AdaMae Margaret Sparrow Grace. Born 5/8/06.
Daddy disappeared down the dark road on April 29, never came back...
post #19 of 22

Memory Stream

Drawn by the whispering water,
You pull my hand through the woods
And drink deeply with your eyes.
“It’s just like the river near Pipa’s house,”
You tell me, and flickering across your face
Is the memory of another morning,
Another stream, which led us
Under the trees to an empty park filled
Only with the hush of our communion.
With you riding high on my shoulders, or
Piggyback or clinging sidesaddle
(Dotted by kisses and sweet nothings),
Dreamlike we moved as one body
Again, but this time it was I
Who perceived the world through you
While we played and wandered
Around the pond and back
To your grandparents’ house,
Where we found everyone
Still asleep.

***********************************************
My DS has autism and sleeps very poorly as most autistic children do. This poem is about what we do when he's wide awake and ready to play at the crack of dawn. His night-waking has really strengthened our bond and helped DS develop a sense of emotional memory, which is particularly slow to develop in people with autism. So nighttime parenting has turned out to be a type of therapy for us both!
post #20 of 22
Thanks BelovedK and tuffykenwell, for the feedback on my poem...it is much appreciated. I actually ended up changing it a lot...but poems are always evolving, aren't they?
New Posts  All Forums:Forum Nav:
  Return Home
  Back to Forum: Mothers' Writing Group