DEAR ANNE FRANK: 05-14-10 ( Part One of Letters To Anne)

Dear Anne:

You were so precocious as a child,
needing to be the center of attention.
Yet you were very, very strong inside.
Such a tragedy when you died.

I look at your beautiful face,
And I wonder what you did not see.
There will never be enough accolades
to calm the pain of  your empty space.

The ache of loneliness resonates
throughout your expressions;
in your pictures, your poems, your letters.
My heart is breaking, I feel just like you.

You saw yourself as a lover of life.
Your words are so full of hope and  love.
My feelings, you express so well.
My sorrow is complete, you are now above.

Dear Anne.

Demented devils forced your demise.
The natural beauty of yourself never dies.
God, I wish I could turn back time.
But you left, still believing the world is kind.

I wish I could talk to you. I wish I could convey
that life is full of pain, yes.
But bearable if one maintains a true heart
and a belief in your God’s reprieve.

The death of your mother, your sister.
Your wish to stay was forced aside.
You were alone, a small boat, lost in the sea.
Your attempts to survive were thwarted.
Your mind convinced you otherwise.

I will never forget your struggle,
It resonates within me.
They turned you into a “bag of bones”.
Yet you attracted anyone you wanted.

Your flirtatiousness was infectious.
Boys flocked to you as you played
a game of “want me, but don’t need me”…

Your words are torturous and keen.
I miss you. You explained me.
I wish I could tell you how much you mean to me.

But it’s too late.
You never even knew me.
You were sixteen when you died.
I wasn’t here, it was 1945.

I’ve attempted to die since I was fifteen.
God must have a purpose for me.
Or maybe He likes my suffering,
My shame is in my last uttering.

You succeeded.
You made it where I want to be.
Do you still believe what you wrote?
“Despite everything, I believe that people are really good at heart.”
Anne Frank

You have always had the peace I crave
to stop my crawling stomach.

The pain is great, almost overwhelming…
How did you succeed? Would you help me?
(Dedicated to Anne Frank, 1929-1945 RIP)

OTHER QUOTES BY ANNE FRANK;

Everyone has inside of him a piece of good news. The good news is that you don't know how great you can be! How much you can love! What you can accomplish! And what your potential is!
Anne Frank

italicHow true Daddy's words were when he said: all children must look after their own upbringing. Parents can only give good advice or put them on the right paths, but the final forming of a person's character lies in their own hands.
Anne Frank

How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world.
Anne Frank

I don't think of all the misery but of the beauty that still remains.
Anne Frank

Ah, I'm red, red, red, red, red! Blush didst I odiously-heavily and gaily, soon as my cheating eyes caught t'at sight of thee! Yes, my dear! So splendid in thy furry, silky coats, ah! silver and red just like th' plentiful breaths of thy streaming innocent gladness; and so perfectly swimming in the oceans of thy handsome face. How profuse and miraculously stunning, like t'ose proud branches of th' juvenile brown verdure-clinging to th' wreaths of cloudy smokes, but still in possession of t'eir own light-hearted lives. How my pride, and weary confidence, sulkily musically leaned away and eagerly bubbled out of my entire conscience; ah, gasping for air then I ended up, unable to **** in th' very atmosphere of th' corridors in which I numbly stood. How I was incurably merged into thee, my love! But still-can't thou see it? My wit, oh, my absurd, haughty wit-and waning intellectual dignity, all were but worse and merely remnants of desultory shadows as soon as thou heaved thy shiny self into view; and straight away-ah! in th' one very blink of th' cautious eye of thee-my thorns of meek feelings were but cheered again with unseen crowns of white dew. Oh, querida! How I plodded about th' magnanimous region of our dwellings, yes-amidst t'ose chirping buds of waterlilies and lavender-like moors out t'ere-t'is morning, with thy image so clearly evoked within my chest, before satirically-and dolefully-giving up my fragmented efforts-as I found thee not, my love! But t'is tearful evening, o, as agitated, sombre and colourless as it would ever become, soon flashed into mine t'at wildness, and yet flirtatiousness-of thee, bathed in jubilant waters of light, and deafening storms-ah! t'ose torturous storms of benevolence, hysterical prudence, and ingenious salutations. Oh, how sure and convinced I duly am now-t'at thou art th' only merit and most precious gift I shall ever love, cherish, and care for. Thou art, indeed, th' sole man I want, and am ever desirous of, in t'is mortal world-for I consider thy love immortal, and secured, for me-ah, as it hath always been-just for me, love. I love thee-I love only thee, oh my, my darling! A prince, prince as thou art, shalt break t'ese weak, ye' icy stones in which I am enveloped-for all th' virtuous akin 'tempts hath all been wan and futile-and melt, melt safely t'is stern heart of mine so I canst cherish love again.

frisky freckles frolick
over his fair-featured face
like a flickering fresco
of furious lusting frenzy

a vibrant flirtatiousness
fills all her fibers
she falls into his arms with finesse
foreseeing fond fantasies

******* with fearsome delight
after failure of foreplay
the foman farts in fectasy
his font flushes fondly

though he almost faints in the feat
for his front has become
far more fragile
than in former feasts

    fewer the forays
    more frequent the flops
    further away
    desires formerly frequent

yet his feelings
still flow to flowering females
forever fertile and fragrant

therefore
he never thinks
of a final
farewell

'Are you okay now?'
Oh, darling, if only you knew,
Only if you could see the light, I see in you with my eyes,
If only you could hear the music that weaves itself,
When you open your lovely mouth.
(But if anything,
I am adept at cowardly self restraint,
Whitled from rotting words and empty dreams,
Chipped and jagged, broken shards.
Yet your eyes, those deep wells,
Brimming with happiness,
With sorrow stifled within smiles,
If only you knew,
If only you could see.
I'm burning up, my defenses breaking,
With every moment the two of us share.
This provokes me, this change of season in the depths of my mind,
Replacing feral winter with lovely spring,
Peace of mind. My satisfaction,
Albeit a solitary one has been ravaged apart.
It tasted pungent, sweet, and
Maddeningly powerful,
Yet the smell of your words is far intoxicating,
Letting loose all my inhibitions.
If only you could see what you meant to me,
Would you be as scared as I am now?)
Shaking my head, dispelling this hasty afterthought,
Of course I am, I reply, With you here, what else could I be?
And you cover it with an immaculate laugh, chiding me on my flirtatiousness,
If only you could see, what you meant to me.

'Are you okay now?'
Oh, darling, if only you knew,
Only if you could see the light, I see in you with my eyes,
If only you could hear the music that weaves itself,
When you open your lovely mouth.
(But if anything,
I am adept at cowardly self restraint,
Whitled from rotting words and empty dreams,
Chipped and jagged, broken shards.
Yet your eyes, those deep wells,
Brimming with happiness,
With sorrow stifled within smiles,
If only you knew,
If only you could see.
I'm burning up, my defenses breaking,
With every moment the two of us share.
This provokes me, this change of season in the depths of my mind,
Replacing feral winter with lovely spring,
Peace of mind. My satisfaction,
Albeit a solitary one has been ravaged apart.
It tasted pungent, sweet, and
Maddeningly powerful,
Yet the smell of your words is far intoxicating,
Letting loose all my inhibitions.
If only you could see what you meant to me,
Would you be as scared as I am now?)
Shaking my head, dispelling this hasty afterthought,
Of course I am, I reply, With you here, what else could I be?
And you cover it with an immaculate laugh, chiding me on my flirtatiousness,
If only you could see, what you meant to me.

DEAR ANNE SEXTON:  05-14-10

Dear Anne:

You were so precocious as a child,
needing to be the center of attention.
Yet you were very, very sick inside.
Such a tragedy when you died.

I look at your beautiful face,
And I wonder what you did not see.
There were not enough accolades
to fill your soul’s empty space.

The ache of loneliness resonates
throughout your expressions;
in your pictures, your poems, your letters.
My heart is breaking, I feel just like you.

You saw yourself as a stranger.
I see you as someone I love.
My feelings, you express so well.
My sorrow is complete, you are now above.

Dear Anne.

Tormented demons forced you blind
to your natural beauty of yourself.
God, I wish I could turn back time.
You left so much behind

I wish I could talk to you.
I wish I could convey
That life is full of pain, yes.
But bearable if one maintains
a true survival instinct.

The wish to leave must be turned aside.
You were alone, a small boat, lost in the sea.
Your attempts to survive were thwarted.
Your mind convinced you otherwise.

I will never forget your struggle,
It resonates within me.
You called yourself “a bag of bones”
Yet you attracted anyone you wanted.

Your flirtatiousness was infectious.
Boys flocked to you as you played
a game of “want me, but don’t need me”…

Your words are torturous and keen.
I miss you. You explained me.
I wish I could tell you how much you mean to me.

But it’s too late.
You never even knew me.
In 1974, you killed yourself.
I was fourteen.

I’ve attempted the same since I was fifteen.
God must have a purpose for me.
Or maybe He likes my suffering,

You succeeded.
Was it guts? Cowardice?
Illness or madness?
What did you see?

Are you at peace now?
Do you now have the peace I crave
to stop my crawling stomach?

The pain is great, almost overwhelming…
Why did you succeed instead of me?
(Dedicated to Anne Sexton, 1928-1974 RIP)