"You know, John, that was very unladylike."--Me after John gave me an interesting gesture
***
I am listening
to the sweet sound of blossoms
falling heavily to the earth
as parasols and snowflakes of them fall
How long will you scream your beauty
while the ground holds you up
for your sacrifice caused by the feet
of thousands uncaring?
I find one of those blossoms
still unblemished by stilletto heels
still a virgin and pure
to all eyes including mine
and hold it lightly in my hand.
I have found peace in the orchard.
***
More reading of "One Hundred Poems of the Chinese." I dislike Mei Yao Ch'en. His poems constantly remeniscence on his dead wife and personally I wish he would have written about something else. I read one of his poems about the blue river in China but the ending mentioned his dead wife too. It made me incredibly sad for him but then I was just angry because I wanted to hear him describe other things than his grief.
Maybe he just never did anything besides write about his wife. In which case, I find it slightly admirable that he was obsessed with her even after her death and immortalized her (and him) in his poetry.
I remember writing poems about my mother after she died but I did other things too. I suppose that's partly because, not only did I miss her terribly, but she was also my goddess of sorts. She was outgoing (Kelse can attest to this) and funny and beautiful. Her skin was so tan, it's amazing that she ever gave birth to me when I'm so pale. Nicki has her tan too. It makes me jealous. She had these amazing hazel eyes and these lips that were made for smiling and kissing her children's injuries away. She was really gorgeous and so nice to everyone.
I remember when she went on a cruise line to Alaska. It was a two week trip. By the end of it, she had made friends with the crew, the passengers and the captain. The captain even offered her the job of an entertainer (it was really high up on the ranking too) on the ship because she was so good with people.
She didn't take it though. Otherwise I'd have gone to Alaska as a child instead of staying here. Either way she came back home with all these amazing stories and how she had seen a pod of orcas off the ship in the middle of the night and how she thought of me when she saw them (which is weird because according to her I resemble a panther.) She brought me back a obsidian ring (which I only take off my left ring finger when I'm taking a shower) and gave Nicki and I music boxes with orcas on them coming out of the waves that played some tune I always cry about whenever I hear it now.
I really wished I could be her but I only have minor social skills. The one social skill I'm advanced in is picking up a book and ignoring people. (Kelse can attest to this too. She was spending the night while I was reading and my mom said something to me but I didn't hear a word of it because I was so absorbed.) Also, I don't have a tan, hazel eyes, black hair, and I'm two inches shorter than she was. And I'm not very nice. Or at least I don't think so.
I do have her ringlets though! *is proud of that much at least* And the lower halves of our faces are very similar. And the way I carry myself sometimes. (Her way was more confident but whatever, minor differences.) And we both lacked common sense. And we both got really worked up over really little things. She and I were both like small children alot.
I think I'm at peace with myself over her death now. I realize that there was nothing I could do even if I had been there. Whoever was upstairs just decided that Mazah was going to be with them and needed her more, I guess.
Poor diety. Lol.
I am listening
to the sweet sound of blossoms
falling heavily to the earth
as parasols and snowflakes of them fall
How long will you scream your beauty
while the ground holds you up
for your sacrifice caused by the feet
of thousands uncaring?
I find one of those blossoms
still unblemished by stilletto heels
still a virgin and pure
to all eyes including mine
and hold it lightly in my hand.
I have found peace in the orchard.
***
More reading of "One Hundred Poems of the Chinese." I dislike Mei Yao Ch'en. His poems constantly remeniscence on his dead wife and personally I wish he would have written about something else. I read one of his poems about the blue river in China but the ending mentioned his dead wife too. It made me incredibly sad for him but then I was just angry because I wanted to hear him describe other things than his grief.
Maybe he just never did anything besides write about his wife. In which case, I find it slightly admirable that he was obsessed with her even after her death and immortalized her (and him) in his poetry.
I remember writing poems about my mother after she died but I did other things too. I suppose that's partly because, not only did I miss her terribly, but she was also my goddess of sorts. She was outgoing (Kelse can attest to this) and funny and beautiful. Her skin was so tan, it's amazing that she ever gave birth to me when I'm so pale. Nicki has her tan too. It makes me jealous. She had these amazing hazel eyes and these lips that were made for smiling and kissing her children's injuries away. She was really gorgeous and so nice to everyone.
I remember when she went on a cruise line to Alaska. It was a two week trip. By the end of it, she had made friends with the crew, the passengers and the captain. The captain even offered her the job of an entertainer (it was really high up on the ranking too) on the ship because she was so good with people.
She didn't take it though. Otherwise I'd have gone to Alaska as a child instead of staying here. Either way she came back home with all these amazing stories and how she had seen a pod of orcas off the ship in the middle of the night and how she thought of me when she saw them (which is weird because according to her I resemble a panther.) She brought me back a obsidian ring (which I only take off my left ring finger when I'm taking a shower) and gave Nicki and I music boxes with orcas on them coming out of the waves that played some tune I always cry about whenever I hear it now.
I really wished I could be her but I only have minor social skills. The one social skill I'm advanced in is picking up a book and ignoring people. (Kelse can attest to this too. She was spending the night while I was reading and my mom said something to me but I didn't hear a word of it because I was so absorbed.) Also, I don't have a tan, hazel eyes, black hair, and I'm two inches shorter than she was. And I'm not very nice. Or at least I don't think so.
I do have her ringlets though! *is proud of that much at least* And the lower halves of our faces are very similar. And the way I carry myself sometimes. (Her way was more confident but whatever, minor differences.) And we both lacked common sense. And we both got really worked up over really little things. She and I were both like small children alot.
I think I'm at peace with myself over her death now. I realize that there was nothing I could do even if I had been there. Whoever was upstairs just decided that Mazah was going to be with them and needed her more, I guess.
Poor diety. Lol.