The day I became a poet was a sunny day of no particular ominousness. I was scuttling along in my usual furtive way, suspecting no ill, when a large invisible thumb descended from the sky and pressed down on the top of my head. A poem formed. It was quite a gloomy poem: the poems of the young usually are. It was a gift, this poem – a gift from an anonymous donor, and, as such, both exciting and sisnister at the same time.
(Margaret Atwood, lecture on poetry writing)
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Wednesday, September 15, 2004 |
i feel so weak (i am weak)
i miss you
i haven't done anything bad lately--
but i know i've done much worse
i'm Pretending again
making it look like i'm strong
when all the while i've been floudering
away from you
take out these preoccupations
from my hands
i am disgusted with myself
for holding on to these
i said i had given up
to you.
Posted at 10:18 pm by peaches
save this
in defense of my mechanisms (written six years ago)
i wish,
this poem were a wall
to hide myself behind with
i wish,
that the words
can give the security
i sorely need
but reality tells me
that with each word
a brick is knocked off
the wall built by my
silence,
making it fall.
Posted at 05:03 pm by peaches
save this
you're so not good at this hiding thing, you know.
although i can't get through your closed doors
i always know where you are.
i'll show you how it is to hide.
you won't even know i'm gone.
i always did this before you came along.
let's play hide and seek.
and i'll hide while you hide.
the person who can wait the longest
and be the one who is found
wins.
Posted at 09:19 am by peaches
save this
can you say,
"brain damage?"
when the head
splits open
and reveals
all those pink secrets
and the yellow centers
of little white lies
those pulsing fears
and wriggling
paranoia, snuggling
and making itself
comfortable
among the nestling
dreams mewling
in their sleep?
avert your eyes
oh squeamish ones
lest you see something
that you just might like.
look over there,
for a sec, ok?
and will cover this
crack with a
blanket i named
complacency
and go on my way.
have a nice day.
Posted at 09:27 am by peaches
save this
free me from this day
and all the thoughts in my head
stuck like fishbones in my throat.
pull at the chain's slack
cut me free
let my wings remember
its romance with the wind.
i have been on the ground too long
roots have grown on my feet
free me from today
and let my eyes set sight
on what never was
then maybe i could learn
what it means
to soar again.
Posted at 09:42 pm by peaches
save this
they say they've been here before
i say, that the landscape is lost
to me, a few miles back
and everything just looks the same
although one cannot guarantee
that we've been here before.
who has time to take note of a
blade of grass a passer by
could've trampled on before?
or the wind in the dancing trees
moving but ever the same.
He has stripped me of familiar
rainments and did not toss me
anything to cover myself with
besides the ones i left my home with.
all the articles i have accumulated
jewels and crowns i have draped
over myself and beaded my robes
with, taken back
for now, and no indication
when i could get them back.
if ever i'm getting them back.
but still, He left me my shoes
and with them i'll keep on walking
straight ahead, until the path i'm making
goes on a bend.
Posted at 01:57 pm by peaches
save this
it's not that i don't appreciate
kind eyes, gentle words,
that warm hand on my shoulder
and maybe an awkward hug now and then.
i just want to let you know
that it's ok not to worry about me
because everything will be fine.
but then again. when did that make
anything better with us.
and still
He's got everything in His hand.
Posted at 01:43 pm by peaches
save this
I am fading into the woodwork
Just when I’ve worked so hard
To see and be seen
Be known and to know.
I am turning into a ghost
And I am afraid of myself
Of what I am becoming
Because I can’t stop it.
My hands are tied
And I can feel myself
Giving in to the tide,
Letting the waters
Rise over my head
And just sleep.
Posted at 10:51 pm by peaches
save this
don't lick.
don't scratch.
not until the ointment's dried up.
don't lick.
don't scratch.
you want the cut to bleed again?
don't lick.
don't scratch.
you won't heal if you keep doing that.
i told you.
don't lick
don't scratch
we both don't want to be dabbing
on open wounds
again.
so.
don't lick.
don't scratch.
Posted at 08:39 pm by peaches
save this
my legs are cramping
held in one position for too long
through my pants
the blood is seeping
trying to wipe my dirty hands
and keeping the mess off the floor.
Posted at 11:59 am by peaches
save this
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