Possibly the first time I have ever publicly responded to MLMM’s Saturday Mix: Same Same, but Different. We are given a list of 5 words and are asked to use synonyms. Follow the link for more info. This was one of my 11 poems written yesterday.
I am God's plaything, partnering
unwillingly with Loss, as Time
flies by, wearing fleet-footed Mercury's
sandals -- yet the fire of Life
does not die quickly
But I love so much.
Don't ever hurry past the greenery,
Nor the moon, nor winged things of beauty.
To exist, if
God You stopped loving me,
That's what I've heard some people say --
Posting because why not. Sorry about the doom and sadness, but that’s where I’m at. Swings are fun; mood swings are not. I’ve found some happy things but can’t write a happy poem.
Update: I did write a happy poem tonight.
I began this poem yesterday for the DVerse Poetics prompt about good and evil and finished it today in order to share with Open-Link Night. It is written almost like an inner dialogue. I wanted to vary the rhymes a little bit more, but I don’t know; maybe the monorhyme for half the poem works.
Supposed to think of life as greatest gift,
But tired of trying hard to spirit life.
Come and get a little lost,
In the darkness, high cost.
Come and listen to accusers.
Fight against that voice, that we won’t lose her.
After a rest, the monster
Stirs, peace it defers.
She tries to remember all that life offers.
Not life’s entire attainment
But I can’t help it —
Want someone to share my life,
Someone to accept my love
This tanka was inspired by the wordle below from MLMM. The word “marriage” specifically led to me writing this. The point of a wordle is to use most / all of the words, but I’m still linking up.
A couple of months ago, my bf and I of 15 months broke up, since his mother decided that she didn’t like me, for the sole reason that I have an entry-level job. It has been a really hard process, especially because my ex hardly even stood up and fought for me, even though he was crazy about me and all but proposed. Everyone I’ve spoken to says that A. his mother was way out of line, and B. I deserve better. Sometimes I believe that. In fact, I believed it more in the beginning, to be honest. I even got angry with my now-ex and told him to “grow some balls” — and I usually don’t use that kind of language, especially not to someone’s face!
Today it still hurts so much to be judged in such a way. It has been especially difficult because even if I “deserve better,” where can I find “better;” I don’t know?
I was enchanted
By the wings of a butterfly,
By the whirring of a hummingbird,
Even today —
Summer hasn’t waved
Goodbye, just like I
Continue to try.
Yes, one might feel like a Colossal Failure, but there are still butterflies, right? *sarcasm* Happily, though, I did feel better after going to work for a few hours. The kids are sooo cute!
My late response to Stream-of-Consciousness Saturday (on Sunday). The word was “home.” I wrote a sevenling.
When I think of "home," I think of
Not only having food and water,
And a place to stay and sleep.
Home is a place of mutual unconditional
Love and acceptance, of rest and relaxation.
Of being who you truly are.
And now I feel like an exile.
My life is a snafu, and every week it seems to get more hopeless. At least I posted today, for the first time in 3 days. I was going to hang out in a café and write this weekend, but there weren’t many writing ideas in my brain…
For DVerse’s Quadrille Monday. Our word is punch, and we write a poem in 44 words. Also for FOWC: Beginner.
Out of nowhere depression says,
"I'm gonna kick your ass,"
And even after years I feel a beginner
As it gets stronger, I'm outclassed.
For a day I'm down on the ground,
But I'll punch it in the face
Next time it comes around.
Not sure how poetic the phrase “I’m gonna kick your ass” is, but at least there was rhyme. The monster does seem to be getting stronger; even though I know lots of “coping skills” now and have friends and even medical help, I just can hardly handle it these days…
Sharing this image from the DVerse post:
Might as well share with you what was supposed to be the last poem on this blog, written and originally shared on September 2, 2021. I had forgotten about this one and was shocked that I could write something even remotely hopeful when I was feeling swallowed by the black hole. I intentionally wrote 31 words and responded to 2 other challenges with this poem, originally.
To thwart everything
That evil plans —
Is it possible?
Even if we can’t,
Don’t let that black hole
Pull all the star-stuff,
But let it twinkle,
Dance and keep on shining.
This is a poem I wrote today, which I am sharing with DVerse Open-Link. We are going live today, so I intend to read this aloud. Not sure if I like the ending. It is hard to end poems well, at least hard for me to do so, so I am interested in feedback (and also wanting to use Fandango’s one-word for today 🙂 ).
Strength comes from loving.
Strength comes from sitting with others in their sorrows,
Without attempting to convince them of better tomorrows
Just sitting, being a comfort in their crying.
Strength comes from crying.
Being what society says is strong for too long,
Finally admitting that times are terribly trying
Such that it seems a curse just to be living.
Strength comes from living.
Strength comes from loving, sitting, crying, trying.
As I mentioned in my previous post, today is the feast of the Exaltation of the Cross. This got me thinking not only about Jesus and his suffering on the cross but his life. We hear so often, “Jesus died for you” that it can get boring and trite, even for believers. What I think is much more radical is: Jesus lived for you.
People have pointed out to me, someone who suffers from severe, chronic depression, “The Bible says Jesus was ‘exceedingly sorrowful, even unto death.'” True, but that was one night. Try about 50% of the nights in the past 2 decades. Also, yes, he suffered a TON physically on the Cross and on the way to it — but that was only a few days of his 33 years. I’m not trying to complain, but the truth is that sometimes I think I’ve got it worse.
What amazes me more than the dying and rising again, quite frankly, is that he did live for 33 years. And he chose to be born! If I had the choice, I wouldn’t choose to be born. Plus, he chose to be born into a poor family, rather than a rich merchant or a noble family. He easily could have had a life of extreme comfort (at least, relative to that time period), but he didn’t. He didn’t even have coffee! Or bacon, for that matter. Coffee is one of my daily consolations; I literally wake up to drink coffee, rather than drinking coffee to wake up. Also, Jesus never got married. If I live long enough and find someone willing to marry me, I hope to get married. He went without that.
33 years, in a time without all the technology and modern amenities that we have today. No running water, no air conditioning, and Jesus was poor even in relation to the society of that day. That’s what impresses me most.
Thoughts? I am interested to hear your take on this, even if you found it really offensive. 🙂