Today I have written one two full poems and have 6 more that are started and not finished, plus multiple other ideas that I want to write about, if there is time and if the blizzard inside my mind calms down enough for me to organize these ideas in a coherent way. Having the goal of posting something yet having no idea what to share is a bit of a quandary. Continue reading
Anger
Tiff is an understatement
Here’s one for the “not gonna lie” file. MVB: Furious and FOWC: Tiff worked pretty well together.
Holding a Grudge
For DVerse Poetics: “Halloweeny Humans,” we are challenged to write about an irritating human attribute (including one found in one’s own self) and make it have a Halloween theme. I wrote an acrostic about holding a grudge. Today at my women’s group, we talked about Divine Mercy and being merciful and forgiving to others, so that was already in my mind. The picture was found on the DVerse Poetics prompt page, and I just thought it was amusing.
A Realization
When I refused to eat at my family’s table,
I was refusing the only way my father knew
To show love, feeding him a “Screw you.”
Anger ate me up inside, there was no room
For life, and happiness was crowded out.
Thank God I learned it was okay to take up space.
Not sure about sharing this one, but it’s what I’ve got today. Linked to FOWC: Table.
This Was Supposed to be a Poem…
Today is the feast day of Our Lady of Sorrows, and I do like this day, as it commemorates Mary’s com-passion as she stood by the cross of her son, Jesus. I wrote a couple of poems in honor of the day and worked on a Chaucerian stanza, which I hope to finish soon. It was going to use the word for FOWC today, since I try to be steadfast in responding to prompts and posting poems (see, I used the word anyway). However, today I felt kind of “off” and sad, and then depressed, and thinking too much about this day triggered the depression really bad. I apologize to anyone I took out my pain on today. The person I become when I am both angry and depressed is a shitty person! So anyway, I’ve got no poem for you today. Except for this, coming to my head right now:
Sorrows
Hit my
Insides and it
Takes a toll
Voilà!
The fight against being hangry
This décima is for Ronovan Writes’s weekly prompt and also for FOWC: Hangry. I’ve been writing some silly poems lately. 
Lunchtime seems much too far away,
Hunger makes tempestuous mood
And irritable attitude,
But it will not ruin the day!
All the Feels
crying
glass runs down my cheek:
tears leave a downward trail
as if they’re slicing
Catharsis
For FOWC: Cathartic, I have an acrostic poem. Sometimes, what is really cathartic for me is to type a free-verse, ridiculously-honest, stream-of-consciousness poem into a draft but then not to post it. When that happens, I’m often tempted to post it anyway, but in the end I decide not to let my freak-flag fly that much. 🙂 Another thing that I find cathartic is to throw ice cubes outside, into the concrete, while yelling about whatever is bothering me. It’s actually rather fun, although I usually do it when I’m alone so that I don’t get any weird looks from my family.
Cry
And rage,
Taking aim,
Helping
Acrid
Rancid emotions
Taper
Into a
Calmer stage.
We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming….
Some governors will have blood on their hands. If they think staying home is safer, they don’t realize that supposed refuges can run red with the blood of the despairing. Unsympathetic people call those who bring this fact to light “covidiots,” but I think that what’s more “covidiotic” is having a monolithic fixation on one issue. Depression and other issues make people really tired of Blursday following Blursday, wishing that “anthropause” would take it’s claws out of all the broken hearts.
Your regularly scheduled poem has been interrupted by this thing, because my brain has short-circuited.
Also, I know that the word “red” is supposed to be for a Christmas writing challenge, and this is the opposite of Christmassy. This was also inspired by a prompt at Poets and Storytellers United.
mistletoe is green,
Santa’s hat is red,
there are other things than Covid
which can make us dead
There’s your poem. 🙂
revivedwriter 