Poems
Some stuff from my Creative Writing portfolio class
I am From
I am from off-brand Lucky Charms and
Crock-pot pinto bean dinners.
From ballet class at four and occasional family vacations
to Florida or Tennessee.
I am from hushed conversations behind closed doors and
the sudden crescendo of arguments.
From the empty side of the closet I found when I got home
the one and only day
you picked me up from school.
(I knew something was wrong when I saw your old blue truck)
I am from joint custody and weekend visitations
and your new "bachelor pad"
(all the furniture as brown as those pinto beans)
From Christmas presents wrapped with comics
and Hungry Man T.V dinners.
I am from her Prozac prescriptions and psychologists appointments
(they never could accept I was relieved rather than sad)
I am from pale yellow cabinets and
70's linoleum
From Livepool Rummy and
The Young and the Restless
cross-stiching, crocheting, and fried-okra making
and trips to Big Lots to "check stock"
I am from that back bedroom at Grandma's
the one that space was made fo rme in
After mom lost it
and her mother had to raise me
Re-birth
Your love was like a womb to me
a warm soft place where you nourished me
in the dark
for our long, four year gestation period.
Even though I couldn't see anything around me
I felt safe
But then I started to develop
to grow up right in front of you
each new movement on my own
making you uncomfortable
like an inside kick to the ribs
and I knew I had outgrown you
with that first contraction that signaled
you were pushing me out.
When you finally delivered me
I remember the cold rush of air
and the stinging slap of the real world
But what I remember most was
The look of relief on your face
When she cut the cord
And you were finally rid of me
Apathetic Bystander
I wish she understood how much
she lowered herself when
she sat back on that couch
and watched him drag me
out of his house.
So what if he told her
they could only be friends?
So what if she hated me because
I was his?
So what if it was our
Lover's spat?
I wish she understood how much
she lowered herself when
she let him drag her
out of his house.
So what if I hated her?
So what if she hated me?
So what if it was their
Friendship quarrel?
I made him stop.
I made him stop.
But when it was me...
I wish she understood how much
she lowered herself when
she sat back on that couch
and watched him drag me
out of his house
and did nothing.
Joint Custody
Everybody knows who you are in this town
Momma said. So be careful what you do
You never know who is watching and
I've got spies everywhere
What you try to hide from me
Will eventually get back to me anyway cause
Everyone knows
You're my daughter
Nobody knows who you are in this town
Daddy said. So it don't matter what you do
No one here is watching and
There are no spies anywhere
You don't have to hide anything
and it'll never get back to anyone anyway cause
Nobody knows that
You're my daughter.
Liquid
Voices buzz like diesel engines
None are buzzing at me
The shrill cackle of a young girl flies overhead
a rumbling baritone drolls underneath
The smell of lunch reeks from their mouths
But one voice drips into my ears and runs down the back of my throat
His voice sounds just like liquid caramel
and I could bathe in the creaminess of his voice
Like Romans in ancient bathhouses
Combustion
“Did you see fire works?” is the most cliché, and most asked question I hear when I divulge the information that I've kissed someone for the first time. Traditionally, if the kiss is a good one, you are supposed to see fireworks. What about people who kissed before there where fireworks? What did they see? Just fire itself? And if they did see fire, what kind was it? A flame? A match? Or did they see Rome burning?
I have never seen fireworks, flames, or the blackened shell of the Colosseum against that destructible orange light when I have kissed someone. I don’t think this means that my kisses have been “bad” necessarily, because I have definitely felt the heat four lips can produce.
I did not see any fire when our lips met. I know the television was on when it occurred, but its voices faded at the point of impact. All I could hear was the roar of flames in my ears, alerting me that something inside had been ignited.
Hera's Tirade
If you truly understood everything that goes on
here on Mount Olympus
and what I have to put up with me,
could you really blame me?
My husband has had 22 extra-martial affairs.
While most people play the alphabet game using
"A is for Apple"
I could use my husband's lovers:
A alone is for Aegina,
Antiope,
and Alcmere.
See what I mean?
I get alot of flack for punishing his illegitimate children.
I think it's only fair.
I mean, the only children we've had are all screwed up
Hebe is basically a maid
Ares is insanely angry and
Hephaestos is so ugly nobody wants to be with him.
So what's a few snakes in Heracles' bassinet?
A case of dementia for Dionysus' mom?
and that whole trying to prevent Apollo and Artemis from being born thing...
Why should me and my children be the only ones punished?
Speaking of nobody wanting to be with certain people,
half of Zeus's lovers have to be duped into being with him.
He's had to disguise himself as a swan, a bull, and an eagle
to kidnap the objects of his affections.
Let that be a warning to you:
Ladies, if your dog or cat stars giving you the eye
Run.
Its probably my commitment challenged husband.
I know what you're thinking...
"Why not divorce him?"
"Why not have your own extra-martial affairs?"
First off, I'm Greek mythology people,
Gods don't do divorces.
Second, I'm the goddess of marriage
It's not gonna look good to be sleeping around.
Besides, its hard to catch a man
when you have the reputation of being
a crazy, jealous, bitch.
But, like i asked before,
Can you really blame me?
I might be the Queen bitch in charge up here
but I can only take so much
before all Hades breaks loose.
Enjoy!