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Free-Range Fiction: National Poetry Month Catch Up

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Hopefully the rest of the month, you’ll be able to find a new poem from me every day here at the ol’ Fiction Farm Blog.  Many of the pieces you will find below are me now beginning to push myself in the form of poetry. Learning a new art, per my Happiness Project and expanding my writing craft. Comments are appreciated, and please know make my day like you would not believe. Here’s catching up through yesterday:

April 10, 2013:

Terror in the Hall

 

I pound on the door

Anyone, please, come

Help Me, I know you’re there

The monster is after me

 

I lose my shoe as I run

The ribbon in my hair falls away next

My sleeve hangs from my shoulder

It reveals an already angry bruise

 

He has a fistful of my hair

Metal taste in my mouth

Blood drips from my nose

My heart pumping fear in my veins

 

I’m thrust to the ground

I scramble, kick, and crawl

Anywhere, just away

Another door, I bang, I plead

 

I curl against the kicks

I try to scream, but the noise

Comes out a whimper

Turning into a blurry haze

 

I send my mind inside the doors

Repetitive portals line the hall

3620? 3622? 3624? Anyone?

Call for help, the monster

Will end me; I feel death knocking

 

The darkness spreads

Like the blood on my face

His Hate smearing across me

Pummeling into my flesh and mind

 

I awake to blue and silver

In my swollen face

My jaw can’t move

My ribs poke my breath short

 

The terror, the monster is gone

Behind a door, a call was made

3619? 3621? 3623? Who?

A grateful anger transmits to my savior

 

But the blame is not for the monster

His actions so vile and horrific

I’m asked, no told, what did I do?

I provoked, I must have goaded

 

The monster is not caged

He’s left to roam free

To get stronger, to prey

On another innocent turned victim

 

April 11, 2013:

Play me your Ukelele

 

Twing, ting, and strum, strum, strum

That tiny sound that’s bigger on the inside

Fingers brush strings

Voice lifts over cafe din

 

Twang, tang, and strum, strum, strum

Notes pump into listeners ears swirling

Heads bop along, toes tap

Smiles spread across audience

 

Thrump, tump, and strum, strum, strum

Energy disguised as music pushes rain away

Eyes sparkle with the story in mind

Mood boosts, elevating past the roof

 

Clap, clop, and stomp, stomp, stomp

Cheers for the entertainment

Hands are furiously thanking artist

Energy exchanged in form of song and praise

 

April 12, 2013:

Insanity’s Home

 

I keep trying

He keeps trying me

 

It’s insanity

They say

 

It’s parental love

I say

 

Nothing changes

This I know

 

But I persevere

Hoping he’ll learn

 

We’ve come this far

So much further to go

 

Questions are raised

Raising more questions

 

Are my efforts

All for naught

 

Should I have let fate

Take its painful course?

 

 

However motherhood won’t deny

Gives me seemingly unending hope

 

I love regardless

He’s my child

 

Even if he’s one

That only a mother can love

 

For that, perhaps

I’m the unstable one

 

However, I’ll reach my end

Knowing I gave it all

 

April 13, 2013:

It’s not the destination

 

For on this day seven years ago we were wedded.

We took to road riding two wheels upon,

Into the wind our compass was shredded.

Without a map to our future we ploughed on.

 

Distraught in confidence for your husband duties,

I soothed you, fear not my piloting beloved.

Off course we’re more able to see the beauties,

Which life together could ne’r be unloved.

 

From that point on we embraced the mystery,

Holding on to one another’s spellbound embrace.

Even when life’s problems become blistery,

Inside one another’s hearts we find breathing space.

 

All these years we’ve traveled on in fondness.

Not where we end up, but the journey in passion.

 

April 14, 2013:

Mining the pain

 

The pain is like an old familiar friend now

It will be there when I awake

It will be there when I plant row by row

It will be there when my time it takes

I know it’s dealing with this agony

Is holding me back and keeping me down

Yet to do the work to heal brings apathy

What would I do without it around?

 

So I sit in the garden my heart throbbing

I know it’s a pest, a giant nuisance

One I know will constantly be squatting

Its claws so dug deep, ruthless

 

I’ve joined the ranks of enjoying menace

Resigned to believe its just part of my existence

 

Published inFree-Range FictionPoetryWrite LifeWritingWriting Exercise

2 Comments

  1. Wow, quite a basket full you’ve given here. (I first wrote ‘hear’, perhaps because I hear you so clearly in these words.) Joy and Fear and buckets of Love and Pain. The flow of life when human. Perhaps you bring so much richness to us because you feel so much. I’m so glad you’ve taken the time to condense so much into so few words through poetry. Insanity’s Home brought me to tears. So much Love, and Love is the most beautiful gift to the world. An energy worth giving no matter how much it hurts. And it hurts mightily. Oddly, the most powerful love I’ve felt is in grief, and it has made me a bigger and more beautiful person to ache with love. Thanks for the gifts you bear and for giving so much in words in this post.

    • Thank you for your kind words. It feels good to give, is the bottom line. Regardless. I’ll keep doing it. You, my friend, are a worthy recipient.

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