so sweet of you to leave behind a paper jot for me to find
for ev’ry breakfast lunch and tea gone missing since you married me;
- however -
such wilfulness I do condemn each crust and crumb, each stone and stem,
each potluck plum purloined at night to satisfy your appetite;
this doctor’s wife has had her fill of poetry and bitter pills,
and crumpled drafts in juicy scrawl appended to the icebox door;
your words do not a meal make how many more must I forsake
- meals, that is -
before your page is fit for press and I can sup on more…not less
ps dinner’s in the oven, probably
A creative writing course exercise in found poetry. Williams married Florence “Flossie” Herman in 1912 and became the town doctor in Rutherford, New Jersey. Despite the time commitment, Williams continued as a full-time doctor while writing his poetry, benefiting from the financial stability it offered.
‘I have eaten the plums that were in the icebox
and which you were probably saving for breakfast
Forgive me they were delicious so sweet and so cold’ - William Carlos Williams, “This Is Just To Say”
What is expected from me? You were the half that chose to leave I'll do my best Be your friend Even if leading to another dead end Never thought we would wash up where we are Two separate shores Watching you from afar Be truthful with me That is what I most desire Sick of the games Frustrated Tired Fake way through a familiar apology Promising to be the man I know you'll never be Like a rolling dice Have many faces Expert at bluffing yet you're always holding aces You gamble my love About time you lose My heart not an object to pull apart or use I'm sick of betting my chips The poorest hand For you I go all-in Don't even understand I never was good at cards At least that is what I'm told Probably should cut my losses Say farewell and finally fold
But what can I say? I guess I'm just a gambling type of girl...
Chances are I'm not the man I think I am. Chances are I'm not the man I make myself out to be. Chances are I'm somewhere in between. Chances are it's the same for you too. Now, whether that's a good thing or bad thing, that's up to you. But whatever the answer, Chances are, you're amazing just the way you are
You were asked if you wanted to get together and you said probably. Now that answer’s haunting me after seeing how quickly probably turns into not with me. You just promised me probably for a proper flee from damaged property. Do you think if you said maybe I’d assume you hate me? No would’ve been the correct route to go instead of engendering excessive expectations for my existence.
Pastors probably preach patience but paradigms shift once penetrated by paramount peer pressure. Answers are hard to find when only probably is spoken by God to me. I’m probably an oddity that doesn’t know what probably means, but I guessed it meant yes unless something unforeseen happened to be. But probably just means you’re not for me less awkwardly.
I don’t know where to begin, probably when you told me my live for you was a sin. I don’t know when it ends, probably when I have no more time to spend. I don’t know who I am, probably the guy that fell for love’s scam. I don’t know what I desire, probably to extinguish love’s fire.
go back to where it began: trombone / cob nut / tadpole / violin / you fell — and i have not breathed it since except that hot summer; when we excavated an entire roman village of chicken bones from the soil where now there are none
meds have been working head has been hurting forever needing sedation truthfully wondering why i even get up and try resisting every temptation
to cut myself feels so familiar on my legs and tummy and arm once on my neck i wish somebody else would cut me euphoria
i’ll only rhyme when i want to i’ll always cry when i say your name if we had another chance you might cut off my wings as a game
cut off my wings right my wrongs with my blood cut on my body just deep enough, love
you taught me that love is irrelevant because i loved you with everything and yet our love was bad, black, burnt and even though i loved you, i’d have still walked away the same because i always knew you’d be the end of me
and now it’s been so many years since you cradled my face and the thought makes me cringe because even though i didn’t say no losing my virginity wasn’t what i wanted
not there, not then, not yet but it was gone and then you were gone and i slowly realized you never loved me i was just like the rest
expendable and unimportant at least, that’s how you made me feel in the gutter on your street above mine at night without touching me without looking at me without tears and without shame
i gave you what innocence i had left and you ruined my soul a permanent mark i still have nightmares of you i still wake up screaming you etched yourself into me and left me sitting in the gutter on your street above mine at night without touching me without looking at me without tears and without shame
i will forever regret you, but i could never take you back it was an uncontrollable connection - karmic fate i think because you taught me what love was and what love felt like once corrupted
now i no longer mistake lust for love i recognize that love is nothing like how i thought it to be love is easy love flows like grass in the wind it doesn’t feel scary or forced love is much more than pretty words left on my front porch
love isn’t abusive or harmful love isn’t doing everything to please another love isn’t lies love isn’t you
but it’ s interesting, now i no longer suffer abuse and yet i must inflict physical pain on myself to feel alive