"determinedly" poems
He means very little to me-
on a regular, uninterrupted day.
But when he talks to me,
he is maliciously welcoming.
He's toxically enduring
and determinedly warm.
It's possible Stockholm Syndrome,
it's definite injustice.
Sweet, sweet injustice.
Sweet interruptions.
My sweet bitterness to his sweet nonchalance.
And then;
sweet realisation that I may not be alright,
but merely distracted.
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 4:31 AM UTC
I apoligize for not reading your posts. I have been battling my depression and have not been online . I have written a poem about it (of course lol). I hope you enjoy and I hope to be online tomorrow.
My Dark Tale (A Sestina)
It is a lovely time of day for tea
As I sit curled up to the song of rain
Memories arise of a deep dark pain
Storm clouds gather within my heart, darkly
Dimly, I am aware of rainbow’s hope
Wanting dreams infused with Rosemary and Thyme
Out of work, I suffer from too much time
Overeating and drinking too much tea
Depression worsens, stealing all my hope
And all my dreams shatter in the cold rain
Leaving me empty in the bitter dark
As I stare out of the broken windowpane
How I long to conquer my bitter pain
If only I would organize my time
I know then, I would rise above the dark
Instead, I get caught in cookies and tea
And sink deeper; chaos supremely reigns
I flounder once again, losing my hope
I am tired of losing precious hope
Letting despair and worthless bitter pain
To take control and determinedly reign
Structure! Will that allow me to use time
Positively? Cutting back on black tea
Getting needed sleep to fight back the dark
Rested, I can push back the hated dark
Strive to capture peace and beautiful hope
Learning once again to enjoy my tea
And not as a crutch that causes me pain
While I mourn the loss of wasted sweet time
Instead, I would see rainbows in the rain
I yearn to topple depression’s long reign,
To walk in the sun’s light, not the cold dark
Eager to greet the day and enjoy time
Pursue my dreams, infusing life with hope
Do away with doldrums and bitter pain
Relaxing and enjoying Earl Gray Tea
Envoi
To sum up, I yearn to enjoy my tea
Overcome my darkness and pain; to feel hope
While I take time to enjoy the sweet rain
Kelly Rose
© January 5, 2017
Jan 5, 2017
Jan 5, 2017 at 5:17 PM UTC
I have a right to stand
I'm claiming it now.
Turangawaewae; 'a place to stand'
Is a deep empowerment from the land
Learnt through ancestral connection
Strengthened through ahi ka; 'keeping the fires burning'
Well, my ancestral stories ain't so impressive
There were few battles
Though my granddad worked for the air force in world war two
- As an accountant
We didn't encounter the gods or try to bring down the sun
Though when my Grandma arrived here she built up the soil
Soul of the Earth
For 70 years
As the city sprang up around her
And my mother aged 11 played follow the leader with a goat in the next door construction site
Where her house is now
My uncle found an old mans false teeth in a cup
Climbing through an abandoned house
My aunt visited James K Baxter's Jerusalem
She wasn't a fan of his poetry
But his wisdom spoke to her
My other aunts jumped through the neighbours trees
Who threatened to shoot them
My father followed my mother here
After her O.E with my sister in the oven
He ******* about John Key as much as anyone
And praises this land; it is home.
I stood on a windy cliff surrounded by pohutukawa and learnt the whisper of the sea
Roughing it on an island I tried determinedly to turn into a pukeko
I got my first cut, bruise, scrape from this land
My first breath, poem, touch of a violin, my first kiss was here
I know the rough patches, the fringe scene, where the best soil is
(It's at my grams house)
I know how to spot a drug house, which cafes will let us jam, where the open mics are 5 days of the week.
I know Kirikiriroa.
My fires have been burning
And I have a right to stand
I have learnt through my own evolution
Through Janet Frame's railroad country
Through a history
Cities growing and spreading
They weren't just here
As it has always seemed to me.
The countryside, what was here before?
Landscapes of forest and mountain
Familiar yet unknown to me.
When I go away I will know the difference
When I return I will know this land
The depth recognized through contrast
Defined by difference
As the sun and moon complement
Light and dark
Sorrow and joy
And,
As in yin and yang
I will know nothing is completely separate.
When I go away I will know
So fully
And I will return and say:
This is my place to stand
My turangawaewae
My Aotearoa
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 7:24 PM UTC
You knocked
I opened the door, in you came.
At first you felt safe
as you settled in, familiarised yourself
with my space
with my most intimate belongings.
Then you slowly but determinedly vandalised my space.
I asked you to stop, to leave.
Each time you went out the front door
you insidiously returned through the back door
when I was not looking.
You burglarised my heart, my soul, my mind.
Your lies and deception became my super glue
You knew it and you abused it.
I wasn’t swift enough to get away.
At first we were easy, as time went on
a knot formed in my stomach.
Tightening and tightening
I never knew what was next.
You locked me into your deception.
Fierce enough to keep me where you wanted,
as you wanted.
You walked away no better than a con-artist,
A thief
A thief of my heart, my soul, my mind
You know what you did
Now I see it clearly
I will take you on
As I find my feet again
And regain my space
My resolve
To face you in a court of law
To challenge your abuse of my soul and mind.
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 10:06 AM UTC
Shards of sail staple sky to sea as fingernail-thin boats lean in to the horizon.
The surge of surf converses constantly with the silent shore, urging its message upon the oblivious beach.
My children scramble on the man-made groyne, a facsimile of wild rock, in which they find caves 'with a proper rock on top' (Bea) and 'a hundred miles deep' (Willem).
We are here on bikes, salt wind in our hair, and my *** slowly absorbing moisture from the almost-dry sand as they unburden their youth upon the rocky playground.
And then come the treasures.
A flat shell the size of my palm and worn pearlescent smooth.
A fossil pebble of concentric ingrained ripples.
'Something amazing Mummy,' comes the cry. 'You have to see this stone; the colour of Coca Cola,' shouts my boy.
More treasures emerge and are grafted on to the sandy pile.
Quartz-like lumps and a mussel entangled with tiny seaweed strands and miniature white shells, like micro leaves and hints of feta in a fancy restaurant.
The boy wears welly boots, no socks, and a plastic medal around his neck. 'Batman, Batman, Batman,' comes the cry, while Bea determinedly scans heaven and Earth for jewels to stud her imagination.
Sep 28, 2013
Sep 28, 2013 at 11:03 AM UTC
The candles are new and burn brightly,
Set on the windowsill high above my head.
Gingerbread is fresh, and the taste
Lingers in the warm, toasty air.
Cousin Kyle lifts me so I can hang my annual ornament,
And Great-Grandma smiles from her armchair.
The candles are a little shorter but still burn with fervor,
My fingertips just reach the windowsill.
The gingerbread is just as good as last year,
And the smell permeates my pink sweater.
Cousin Kyle lifts me to the top of the tree,
And Great-Grandma smiles from her armchair.
The candles are burning determinedly and pushing their last
And I playfully plaster their wax over my gradually growing fingers.
I help make the gingerbread,
And am covered in flour the rest of the evening.
Cousin Kyle and his girlfriend help me hang my ornaments,
And Great-Grandma smiles from her armchair.
The candles are almost nonexistent now,
And I light them for my mother.
I accidentally burn the gingerbread,
And the smoke infiltrates the whole house.
Cousin Kyle doesn’t want to help hang my ornaments,
And Great-Grandma sighs from her chair.
The electric candles blink in the window,
And I replace their bulbs with care.
The gingerbread doesn’t taste as good as it did when I was little,
But it brings back a heavy wave of warm nostalgia.
Cousin Kyle is off in Afghanistan,
And Great-Grandma sleeps in her chair.
The magic of Christmas never fades.
Sometimes it’s just buried deep in a box of ornaments
Or sitting in a quilted armchair
Waiting for that little girl
To remember.
Dec 20, 2016
Dec 20, 2016 at 1:22 PM UTC
There’s a part of me cares
Like a mother to her child
For every ache, blemish, and bruise
Quiet, but determinedly anxious
When there’s beating in my body
Bubbling up on the ocean floor
Growing loud and reaching upward
Pulling me from this gross sea cove
It squeezes me when we break the surface
Begging me to take a breath
So I open to my savior
And release a mess that stains me
Warm, I settle into the foam
I finally feel better now
Thank you, my caring soul
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 9:19 AM UTC
)
~
(
~
It comes anytime,
like a blowing breeze,
tenderly caressing,
but.....invading;
it creeps in, and
softens the toughened,
this breeze of fragility
makes ****** tissues
indispensable.
some days,
a *playful little girl
steers a paper boat
on a big basin of water,*
plays with dogs...watching
spiders weaving webs, perching
birds and butterflies, pretending
they are dwarf friends...while
munching a red, crisp apple, like
snow white.....playful, sleepy,
and.....forgiving.
on an undaunted mood,
wonder woman determinedly
crosses her gauntlet-wrapped
forearms...to protect loved ones
and in so doing, makes possible
the impossible,
come hell or high water
some days, a blend of all three
occurs, but, the child and the brave,
try to rule over the fragile...me,
every day.....is an adventure...
Sally
©Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
August 26, 2020
Sep 7, 2020
Sep 7, 2020 at 9:49 PM UTC
Having washed her doll
Battered Betty in the baby
bath, Helen dries it in an
old towel her mother gave
her, rubbing it with her
childish motherly attention
to detail. That done, she
dresses Betty in some doll's
clothes her father brought
home from a junk shop
on his way home one Friday.
She wraps Betty in a fading
shawl, and goes to the front
door. Where you off to? her
mother asks. Taking Betty
out for a walk, she replies.
Where abouts? probably
to Jail Park, Helen says.
Watch out for strange men,
her mother says. I'm with
Benedict, Helen says. O,
well that's OK then, her
mother says, relieved,
pushing damp hair from
her lined forehead. Helen
goes out the front door
and walks along to the
railway bridge next to the
Duke of Wellington pub
where Benedict said to
met him. She pats the doll's
back as she walks, tightens
the shawl to keep the doll
warm. Benedict is waiting
by the pub wall; his cowboy
hat is pushed back, 6 shooter
gun is tucked in the belt
of his short trousers. Helen
sees him before he sees her,
she prepares herself: licks
fingers to dampen down her
hair, straightens her thick
lens spectacles, wipes her
nose on the back of her hand.
Am I late? she says as she
approaches him. He pushes
himself from the wall, his 6
shooter quickly out of the belt,
he blows the end. No, he says,
just thinking of the Billy-the-Kid
I saw at the cinema the other day.
Got shot. Died. I wouldn’t have
done that, I'd not have turned my
back on the marshal whatever
his name was. Helen rocks Betty
in her small arms. Given Betty
a bath, she says, nice and clean now.
Benedict gives the doll a glance,
puts his gun away in the belt.
Good, he says, can't have our
kid ***** Helen smiles, no, we
can't, can we, she says. Mum
says to look out for strange men,
she adds as an after thought.
Benedict pats his gun, no strange
man will get to you or Betty,
he says determinedly. Just as
Mum says, Helen says quietly,
looking at the cowboy beside
her, his hat now pushed forward,
his hazel eyes focusing, on her
and the doll. Let's go walk, he
says, I'll give you and Betty
a push on the swings and
roundabout. So they walk up
Bath Terrace, she telling him
about a boy at school calling
her four eyes, and he musing
of putting a couple of slugs in
the kid's head: BANG BANG,
the caps will go, just smoke,
no holes, no death, or if he chose,
maybe a good sock in the nose.
Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 3:46 PM UTC
After church that night,
i had no ride, there were no lights
Just walked determinedly...
That no harm would accost me
That no raindrops upon me would fall
Were my prayers, my most fervent calls,
I played deaf to howling dogs
Never mind the croaking of the hiding frogs
I had no cane to wag or shoo away the dogs that followed
But i grew cold, I knew they were breathing, these faceless shadows
I had no more strength in store
But fear melted and came out of my pores
I believed, someone unconquerable kept my fears at bay
While a pearly full moon, lighted my way.
The road was still long, and sloping
And i sensed the rain coming
But how could it happen tonight
With a moon in sight?
For some reason, i looked up and it was gone!
Couldn't see, even a spoon-shaped one
There was just a soft beam,
Shedding dismal light, it had seemed.
And i, was now catching my breath---
Almost all was hushed by the darkness
But, all took light, as i passed by neighbors' houses
Under the navy blue sky, the wind gave a not so gentle blow
I looked up, saw my pearly moon back...i was led home, by a glow.
The glow...His words, shone bright upon me,
though i saw dark, the Glow from the Gospel, guided me
they echoed that night of anticipated mass:
"If you remain in me and my words in you, then you will ask
for anything...and you shall have it.."
He kept me safe, and so be it
God's words proved so true
From fear and danger, He delivered me, He got me through...
(Happened the night of May 2, 2015...)
Sally
Copyright May 22, 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
*
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 3:08 AM UTC
I can’t get the sand out of my shoes
It’s been weeks
And I’ve been hitting them
And shaking them
And knocking them around
But still
I can feel the grit with every step
So I still can’t get the beach
Or you
Off my skin
With you, there was no warning
I went from drifting languidly along in the sunshine
To being tossed against the rocks in a sudden hailstorm
Shocked and battered and lost
Disoriented in the downpour
When I’d had the promise of clear skies
I’m not sure I’ll trust the weatherman again
He’s got your eyes and voice and disarming smile
I’ve been trying to get the salt out of my ponytail
I’ve been trying to get the feel of rock out of my hands
I’ve been trying to get this ****** sand
Out of my shoes
But it’s so sticky
Everything
Is so sticky
And here I am in the biggest mess
With hair and skin and mouth
So full of you
That I don’t know how to escape
My tongue is still recoiling
From the half-truths you spilled
Tinged with sweat and cinnamon
And slime
And here I am still choking on them
Retching
Just to get rid of the taste
Gnawing at my lips
Just to break the skin that knows you
Scrubbing myself raw
Just to keep you from clinging
My ears are buzzing with your nonsense
And I am running from the noise
Bolting with everything that I have
As sand grinds against my feet
And I will be ****** and breathless before I stop
Because I need the distraction
As much as the distance
I can’t keep reliving your kisses
With every stubborn grain
I can’t keep wondering if you’re lying
Every time I turn my back
I can’t keep playing this game
Because we’ve all already lost
So I will not apologize for taking the high road out of here
And leaving you to sulk with your I-didn’t-mean-to’s
And your too-little-too-late revelations
There were a lot of ways this could have ended
But I never once imagined you would have brought storms to my doorstep
I never expected to be trying determinedly to peel my skin off
And I never thought I’d be sitting here wishing to forget your name
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 10:53 AM UTC
Fay can see Baruch
from the window
of the living room
down on the area
of grass below
he is alone
sitting on one
of the bomb shelters
left over
from the war
she peers down at him
taking in
the cowboy hat
the silver looking
6 shooter toy gun
he seems
to be cleaning
she wishes
she was there
with him
but her father
says she is to stay in
and learn about the saints
and said he will
quiz her later
when he gets home
from work
about them to see
what she has learnt
the book
is on the chair
unopened
a bookmark
of St Benedict
lies on top
her mother
is in the kitchen
preparing soup
she knows her mother
would turn a blind eye
if she wanted
to go out
but they both know
that her father
would punish her
if he caught her out
especially
with Baruch
the Jew Boy
as her father calls him
the killer of Our Lord
he often says
although Baruch
denies being involved
in any way
she hopes Baruch
will look up
at her window
and see her
he has put his gun
in the holster hanging
from the belt
of his jeans
and holds a rifle
bought for him
for his birthday
he aims at the sky
and twirls around
pretending to shoot
pigeons flying
over head
she watches him
as he aims
at the coal wharf
where the coal carts
are being loaded
with coal
from chutes above
her father doesn't like
Baruch even though
Baruch always smiles
and says shalom
to him if he passing
her father on the stairs
of the flats
Baruch says
her father is a schmuck
but she doesn't know
what that means
but if Baruch said it
it must be a nice term
she thinks wiping away
the steamed up glass
where she has
breathed on it
she blows him a kiss
from the palm
of her thin hand
he doesn't know
but he'll get it
any how she knows
he aims at
the steam train
passing over
the bridge
by the Duke of Wellington pub
she smiles as he does
the kickback
from his rifle
the train passes
unharmed
the driver unaware
he has been fired upon
by a cowboy
from the grass
she eyes him
determinedly
wants him to look up
at her window
he lifts the rifle
to the sky again
and fires
then he pauses
lowers his rifle
and stares at her window
she waves
he looks
she waves frantically
he looks away
she bites a lip
he stares up
at her window
and beckons her down
with a wave
of his hand
she waves
crossing her hands
as if to say
can't come
he gazes
and then waves
and blows a kiss
from his hand
upwards
then he climbs down
from the bomb shelter
and disappears
the grass is empty
he has gone
the book of saints
lies on the chair
unopened
she goes
from the window
and picks it up
and opens
and begins to read
sensing
a good portion
of her 11 year old
girl's heart
bleeds.
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 2:04 AM UTC
I had been bending over,
I used to do that for her.
Little did she ever hear,
Seldom she treasured ever.
Maybe I just can't get enough,
Never she went astray, though.
Determinedly I wasn't tough,
She managed to spoil the dough.
Perhaps life would someday shine,
Someone might come my way.
And then she'll be mine,
On this life's highway.
Oct 6, 2016
Oct 6, 2016 at 6:33 AM UTC
Deep within the legend,
Lies the paradigm:
Concepts so vast,
yet eternally combined.
Certain ideas that ever-last
those who need it defined
but I can assure you that fate
Is pre-determinedly assigned
And it's up to you to gravitate
Toward where it can align.
In the grand scheme
Of this complex quantum design,
Is a beautiful theme
That could be depicted as divine.
Action begins with thought
That could not confine
What we all had sought
And what we had bore in mind.
Yet with that all under consideration,
We need to know how your reality is also mine
With some quantifiable explanation
That we'll eventually intertwine.
So due to your position
Throughout space and time,
Find the nearest mission
That allows you to further ascend or climb.
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 10:39 AM UTC
Pigeon toed wombats
Determinedly trundle by
Heading to burrows
Jan 10, 2025
Jan 10, 2025 at 7:16 AM UTC
We’re a disaster, you and I
An explosion waiting to happen
The beginnings of a nuclear meltdown
A finger hovering over a trigger
Dangerous
That’s what you called me
Dangerous
Threw the word into the air to hover dizzily between us
So I laughed it off
Recognizing that it’s you who’s trouble for me
And grasping at your hand regardless
It shouldn’t have been this easy for you
Not after all that time I spent tripping after you
For I taught myself not to crave you
I’d known that you’re no good for me
Playing games back and forth
Cat and mouse
Chasing and pouncing and running away again
Leaving me to think I’d made it all up in my head
Breathless and crazy and so, so tired
Too tired to keep wanting this
But like an open flame and a tank of gasoline
Despite my best intentions
You came too close and set the world on fire
Maybe I hadn’t really learned my lesson
Or maybe it was the way you looked at me
Or maybe I’m just a pyromaniac
Because I danced determinedly into the flames
And there, in the blaze, we collided
Disaster
The explosion, the meltdown, the flying bullet
All the destruction I’d tried to guard against
Ripped the brain from my head and the heart from my chest
And left me to burn
Feverish and desperate and stumbling for more
Hanging onto slurred confessions and pinky promises
And the thought that
Once
This was all that I’d wanted
But I don’t want to stand here burning anymore
I don’t want to feel the skin melting from my bones
Until there’s nothing left to hide behind
I am sick of cat and mouse
And I’m on my last life
And I don’t need to get caught in a wildfire
Because I told myself that I don’t want you anymore
And I’m already in over my head
And I can tell that you are, too
It’s a mess
And we both know it
You had thought that our respective messes could spill into each other
But that would be mixing bleach and ammonia
Toxic
Dangerous
Because it’s like we’re each trying to save the other from drowning
While struggling to keep our own heads above the water
And if you fell beneath the surface I wouldn’t hold it against you
Because I can’t save you
I can’t get tangled in nets and arms and seaweed
And the thought that you might actually want me
Because my scorched bones can’t take anymore
So despite my best intentions
I’d only end up sinking with you
I’m sorry
But I can’t handle any more disaster
I need rescuing and dry land
No flames, no games
And no dizzy decisions made too late
You were right calling me dangerous
Because I will always be volatile
And you the spark to set me off
We burn sweetly, you and I
But I can’t spend my life on fire
May 14, 2011
May 14, 2011 at 7:44 PM UTC
When your youthful command of language
is not enough to convey
what swings its jaws inside you,
when you stand pulling from your shelf
volumes written by the great and inimitable—
names that inspire centuries of admiration,
minds that managed what you cannot,
their icy clarity pummeling you
like a stream of fists,
you of tremble and grief
and writhing weariness—
when your age prohibits you from expressing
your apocalyptic, purgatorial verve the way you want it,
you don’t stop trying,
you don’t stop trying,
you let the sun drop and rise
and then
you launch your body at this wall again,
you bruise yourself willingly and determinedly,
you throw your whole weight into the crash,
you work up a fury of hope, an improbable recklessness,
you keep going and going and going and going
never mind the blood in your mouth or bells in your ears
because you are the whale that beaches itself by choice
and you are right to be this way,
you are brave to keep looking for gold
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 5:59 PM UTC
Her eyes the color of angry skies
Doth look upon my face
And from it's dark grave my heart arise
And flutters in her grace
Her bloodied lips are daunting
As they move to form her words
Her melodic voice; haunting
As it shames the tune of birds
Cutting the air her edge sounds sweet
As it flies and slices with sin
I find my heart is skipping beat
As a new passion doth begin
Her blade then makes a faulty move
I see my pale skin start to cry
My last mistake falls from the groove
As I lay my sweet self to die
my slender chest is falling
As I **** in ragged breath
I hear white women calling
As they usher me towards death
I see my lonely spirit rise
While in vanity she is took
I pause myself before the skies
Granting her one last fleeting look
The scene below me is flying
As mercy scatters in the breeze
I wake to find that I'm crying
Left with scarce more than memories
I stand on soft shaking limbs
As I realize with a start
my dreams' revolution brims
With a secret hidden heart
I'll dance with my fair maiden still
And watch her determinedly fly
O'er green pastures, and yonder hill
Until we kiss a sweet goodbye
My tattered armor holds me tall
As in my post I always stand
Let my warriors never fall
As foe’s die by this; my hand
And if captured by the enemy
With pause and fear forbade
I will draw her shining edge to me
blessing my Lady Blade
Nov 5, 2010
Nov 5, 2010 at 1:47 PM UTC
It started with a few strokes,
a pointed charcoal,
pulsed...led by the
thumb and index finger, that
initiated a sway of arcs, the contours
of boyish hair, clinging to the nape
a few short strands on a not so wide
forehead,
very near...........a pair of
not so bushy eyebrows, under which
stared...peeping, smiling
almond-shaped, brown eyes.
then...followed gentle strokes
of perfect highs and lows
of a
medium-bridged
nose.
:::::
hills, valleys, and softened arcs
shaped and manifested character-
high cheekbones....a pointed,
but softened chin,
suddenly, i was
looking at
sensual,
full, pouting,
luscious lips.
:::::
index finger covered tip, to help
define jaws....then slid down lower,
a slick,
slender
neck
appeared,
propped up by
a shallow clavicle
and gently shaped shoulders,
that fool judging eyes and minds
they seem small, and weak
and fragile, but, they can carry
tons of worries...determinedly.
:::::
fingers angled, pencil tip slowly
danced...in careful strokes,
and curved lines,
artfully creating
a valley,
'tween two heavenly mountains,
with pinkish brown crowns
conspicuously tensed at the tops...
pencil moved decidedly....so sure...but,
slow in shaping waist...then curved
on rounded hips..sliding inwards
to the front.....to a central point,
essential, fundamental, umbilical.
its surroundings raised, as if to protect
a knotted cord...filled with stories...closed,
atop a slightly fleshy belly...
from there, a short distance downward,
led to a hidden flower
the reason...a cradle...a port,
covered by a triangular shield,
squeezed in between
chubby thighs and legs.
:::::
lines went lower, narrower...
shaped a pair of fair feet,
with painted toes
ably supporting
a bare maiden
::::::::::::
wonderfully
sketched,
:::::::::
in
deep
charcoal.
:::::
Sally
Copyright July 30, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Jul 29, 2017
Jul 29, 2017 at 10:37 PM UTC
Waiting ever so
Patiently
To remind them.
With deep conviction
In their eyes
Wanting to
Tell them softly,
I did the best I could.
The best I could
Gazing up at them
As they motioned toward
The hallway.
The tension was clinging.
The best I could
Trying to bypass it
With a lazed shrug.
They started to get
Antsy
Picking at their pocket.
They focused
On the worn floor.
The best I could
A cough stifled the air.
Turning attention away
As it was becoming
Unbearable.
The best I could
Taking one last,
Lingering look at them.
Watching,
As they gathered up the bags
Proceeded to walk
Determinedly
Through the door
And...
Out of my life.
© NDHK
Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 1:59 AM UTC
I suppose I'll be in a Nursing Home one day
drooling all over myself
And still plotting revenge on this world for
having wronged me so,
Or maybe I might just be dozing, probably
having another nightmare
I might find myself on a train somewhere and the conductor he suddenly
announces
"Next stop Dementia City
After that it's Alzheimersville"
I'll awake with a start
And then...then I'll see her... this beautiful
vision just walking in
Elderly like myself but still so ladylike
Still so lithe and graceful
I'll tell my Nurse to quickly get my false teeth
And my good wig
And my walking frame
And to give me a couple of those heart tablets
I'd think to myself "I knew she'd come... one
day"
It'd be one last chance for Love... one last dash for Love.
So moving slowly but determinedly across
the floor toward her
I'd probably get a pain midway
And then keel over
She'd not see me, she'd have her back turned
to me
The Nurses they'd be showing her to her
room
She'd be walking away
I'd try to call out but the words they'd get all
garbled and stuck in my throat
I'd try to reach out to her... reach out like
she's some mirage in the desert
My last gasp... my last gasp for Love
But...too late...
Too late, the Hero.
Apr 25, 2024
Apr 25, 2024 at 9:09 AM UTC
To begin with there begins a little sprinkle, only a delicate sound
just delicate, a small "titter" as it taps on your secondary passage.
This, at to begin with, you have a go at overlooking 'til it's decidedly pouring
it reestablishes and continues invigorating each living thing around.
At that point it streams down the timber of the trees with branches agile
what's more, the leaves surrender clean as, drinking heartily, they sup.
Where the beads make a sprinkle, there the drainpipe begins a ******
or, on the other hand it tickles through the rings 'til it douses into the ground.
In the canal there's a puddle, only a little center obfuscate
at that point it develops into a gusher as it sputters past the control.
This downpour tumbles towards the tar, ten times as quick and twice as far
as the tormented educators pull at both their tunics and their sleeve.
Furthermore, once more, it makes an air pocket and makes a little inconvenience
for the wetness of the water causes sobbing from the astute.
There's a flooding of the fields as the water waves and wheels
what's more, the grieving Mormons on their bicycles are crying to the skies.
While the raindrops keep running round edges and they swell down the extensions
at that point they join the happy excursion at the intersection with a run.
When they accumulate in the canal there's a sputtering, merry splutter
with a splashing and expression, they're singing as they clear out.
There's a stammer and a shake as the gusher battles a fight
with the gravity of planet as it joins the droning throng.
However, it's inclination is constant and disregards each safe
pattern of obstructions as determinedly it wends it's direction once more.
Presently it looks for the last butcher and it jumps into the water
of the sea at the passageway of the place we call the narrows.
There's a happy "hurrah" of adulating to the Ruler who has been looking
down on every one of his youngsters, named or not, who looked for his favored 'Rain'.
Oct 25, 2017
Oct 25, 2017 at 6:49 AM UTC
For the first time that night, I felt like I should never have climbed out of my laundry room window, creeped into a foreign car, and ended up inside a mystery house. How could I have been so oblivious and naïve? His name was Cody, the possessive and powerful varsity football player who chose to act upon his compulsion. Why did I have to come here?
I continued to search my way out of that labyrinth of a house, stumbling stumbling further and further from the back room, from which I could hear Cody calling my name. Twenty more steps. If I was going to escape this predicament, now was the time to do so. There were only fifteen steps separating the front door and me. I attempted to stifle any audible sound emitted from my feet so that the football player wouldn’t be able to hear me if he listened. Ten more steps. Eight. Seven. His beckoning grew closer and louder, as if he were right behind me, reaching for me just to drag me back into submission and compliance. Only four more steps. Three. The door was in focus for me now, so close I could touch it, my freedom and its release. I forced whatever mental and physical strength I had left into my hands to push open the door and step out into the humid summer night. Behind me, I heard Cody attempting to reason with me, which almost made me turn around, but, with my resistance, I found myself spitting the words: “How dare you, don’t you touch me... I have to leave now...” I was about to lose it. My heart was racing. My lungs were desperate for something more than short, panicky breaths. My body was close to giving up, giving in, surrendering...
No. Out into the night, I slammed the house door behind me and walked determinedly to the car.
My fingers dialed the number to my sister on my phone. My sister, who was supposed to protect me, and didn't. I said:
“Take me home, now.”
Never shall I forget that room, the room where it happened, when I was kissed and touched for the first time against my will.
Never shall I forget being pinned down on a smelly bed.
Never shall I forget that boy’s contorted face whose hands wandered over me with such desperate need in a silent place.
Never shall I forget that night which consumed my faith in love for many years.
Never shall I forget the mouth that deprived me of oxygen and mashed our tongues together.
Never shall I forget those moments that murdered my youth and my innocence and turned my hope to narcissism.
Never shall I forget those things, no matter how many times a boy tells me it’s all right now.
Never.
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 4:48 PM UTC
Forever waiting for my decrepit friend
with my heart nailing my spine to the earth.
I need this Cimmerian Shade to remind me
that this isn't how things determinedly end.
...and I read the news and still feel uncomfortably serene,
despite the dead heroes and all the entitled people.
There's no luck anymore, just a fistful of my abysmal choices,
and I'm kidding myself if I think I haven't always been the antagonist of this epic journey.
...and all I challenge you is to come over and waste some life with me
and to blindfold me from your behavior like a child that's convinced of unicorns.
...and my cheeks smolder with my incinerating charcoal soul.
I suffer as I admit my desires and my charcoal soul will continue blistering until its substance is melted and twisted like wax.
...and I was captured in a landslide that only I can palpate,
curious as why nothing has seen me being removed ever so slowly,
like it's my undying fate.
I'm summoning everybody I know and everybody I don't,
to the races to see how fast I can run with my wounded spirit.
Place your bets.
Beat the odds.
Get lucky
Apr 25, 2016
Apr 25, 2016 at 5:39 PM UTC
Tall trees and grass everywhere
Howling wind and grasping branches
No one to be seen or found
All, all alone in the darkness
Light far away in the horizon
Stretching out to grab it
For every breath, a step closer
A flame inside called hope
Someone dragging me back
I am fighting back
So tired and exhausted
But the longing for you is strong
For a moment, just a second
Giving up sounds fine
I close my eyes as I hear
You whisper to me
I decide to try one more time
So I set my eyes on you
Determinedly I find you
And finally I am home again
Jun 25, 2017
Jun 25, 2017 at 9:50 PM UTC