Playa peep original poems

[hrlydavison]

I have really enjoyed the Poem/poet thread...So...

I thought it would be cool to start a Playa peep Poem thread

We can do a certain theme each thread and the one who starts it gives the theme. Lets try to do one every few days as not to choke the topic with too much.

I believe everyone can write...so give it a shot. Lets try to be serious though and obstain from the Bathroom poetry.

I will start the first theme...

Remember this is an original work by YOU and should be a fresh write as you type in the thread box.

Comments to your poem can be left and is encouraged. Not critiques but comments...lets be friendly to one another.

First theme...heartache

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Original poem by hrlydavison
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Corrugated love folded and taped...with me inside

As I remember you were married to your white cap and your clean white well worn shoes

He left you with a bottle in his hand
Left with the girl next door

I could barely talk but Fisher Price served me well
It kept me busy down the road at "Momma's" house who wasnt my own

I grew and grew as I shrank and shrank
Inside

Nine years of trying to find my way... trying to grasp your white ghost
But if you were there I cant truly recall...but I do remember the way you stroked my hair

The pressure finally gave
From school to school
I bounced...worn on the tether

Conferences were called...as I acted out for something...anything to feel...r-e-a-l
The "experts" said I had to go

You told me it was a camp
The man behind the desk said I should stay
We came together... and you left... alone

That was so much for a nine year old heart

Here I am still...almost thirty years later
Still... trying to grasp...your white ghost
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[redhairgirl1]

Come on Melliedee!! Just do it!

[melliedee]

Heartache? Okay, I've got lots of those! Here's RHG's favorite, but only cause she WAS THERE and it is a story about our first crush in the old neighborhood .... cool stuff, harley!

Why I Like Brawny Men

Apple Avenue’s only three-girl vaudeville: Me, Jenny, Krissy.
Skinny arms slung round each other as we step-kicked it barefoot
in the tall grass of our stage, a quagmire of junk weed,
that city green near yellow. Summer saw our flip-flops flung
on porches, the dirt on feet became callus, a hard sheen almost clean.

We swung out farther, our limb-addled dance of girlsexy suspended
when a chunk of glass bit into the soft of my arch. Blood trailed purple
back to pavement, sending Roger bounding out of his divorce-affordable
fixer-upper to my aid. He was thirty maybe, a strapping 70’s version
of Pa Ingalls with sideburns cut like fins that begged to test our girlness.

No accident we were playing in front of his house, all sparkle and indifference.
One big move and he scooped me into a swift curl, my foot dribbling,
heart beating an operatic systole at the sudden flex of his arms—
one different and othermanly beneath my knee, another thick under my neck.

I went soft and bright, from here to eternity, pouting for a kiss
when he plunked me on the trunk of his Buick, shucked off his T-shirt
and wound it over the cut. I forgot about the glass lodged like a dull diamond
in the butter of my foot—it was the way he whipped off that shirt—
anyone else would’ve run for a towel.

And there were my brown legs on his hot Buick, water from the hose pellucid
but for a pink strain of mingled blood, smarting at the gash, then numb.
He called me sweetheart and I leaned into the smooth of his shoulder,
wanting that name forever.

[roni]

We have a lottery ticket for tomorrow
I hope we win it.
The End.

[JudyBluEyes]

On a windy night
As the sky grows dark
She stares with her eyes
And in silence she sees.

As the fog rolls in
Thoughts cloud her dreams.
Just but one answer
Only still she seeks.

What hides there
In the blaze of the sun?
An eclipse so total
Today soon forgotten.

The world sings
Of joys and of fears.
After all they know
The song she does not hear.

[Joana]

You came.
You saw.
You touched.
And you broke it.
Now you're gone.
But you still touch my soul.
And my heart is still broken.

Your last words were "Know that you do have a place in my heart
but I've had to keep it closed due to the circumstances.
Be good- I won't forget."
After all this time
the place in MY heart is still open,
waiting for it's resident to come back.
And while you told me to forget you
I still remember.
While you
who said I won't forget
don't care anymore at all.

[Heather]

Open Heart Surgery
(for Nancy Ann)

As a little girl, falling down meant
you would appear like magic,
a petite miracle bearing Band-Aids and hugs,
your voice a gentle hymn that calmed me
You’ve skinned your knee,
Show Grandma where it hurts
Grown up now, I still want to run
at the sight of these tiny butterfly closures like wishes
holding your wound together.
When the doctors split you open,
sawing through muscle and bone,
they saw something no one else, not even you,
has ever seen—your heart,
fluttering helplessly inside the cage of your chest
like a broken-winged bird; your heart
with its unchangeable catalogue of events;
that quickened at the birth of your firstborn son
and years later tightened
into a fist of misery when he took his own life,
leaving behind only the space
he once occupied,
a paper doll cut from the page
and lost.
Unlike your jagged paperweight of pain,
my rage has rounded edges;
having no memory of him
allows me to hold his death like a gift,
a wordless warning of what not
to do to my children.
For you, these unbalanced years
are still just crooked litanies of grief
that cannot comfort you;
his name indelibly written
in the sacred journal of your heart.
And when I stand here before you
with my arms full of flowers and
the weak salve of my love,
wearing green eyes
and bone structure you helped create,
I am doing something I learned early from you:

I am saying Grandma, show me where it hurts
As if it was that easy.

[Heather]

I also wanted to mention that I'm really impressed with what everyone else has posted on this thread. I love poetry and it's nice to see there's other closet poetry lovers out there.

[melliedee]

Originally Posted by Heather

I also wanted to mention that I'm really impressed with what everyone else has posted on this thread. I love poetry and it's nice to see there's other closet poetry lovers out there.

Me too! I love the one you just posted, especially "crooked litanies of grief." Poetry lovers, out of the closet!!

[Slayer]

I don't know if I would call this poetry. More like a dumb country song.
(Moved from other forum)

TEQUILLA MORNING

(Meant to be sung like a country tune)

I opened my eyes this mornin
My God what a terrible sight
A moped parked at the foot of my bed
I must of had a hellof a night.

The shoes on my feet are a ten and a half
I left my home with a nine
My pants are on but my underwears gone
I must of had a wonderful time.

Another tequilla morning
Another forgoten night
I could have robbed the el banco
I could have lost a fight.

(There is more, but I'm sure you have seen enough.)

[Joana]

Ugh- Heather, your poem gave me a total knot in my throat!!! Very, very touching.

[hrlydavison]

Heather...very touching.

I thought this thread would be a good way to "air" out some feelings we have inside. It also shares our love for the written word and shares a little bit of ourselves with others.

Bravo to all!!!

Lets see some more...

[cyndyj1]

You are all AMAZING poets. I'm in awe!

I can't write one about heartache cuz it's too recent, too intense, too unfinished. But when you get to dirty, silly limericks as the theme, let me know. I've written tons of those.

[melliedee]

Originally Posted by cyndyj1

You are all AMAZING poets. I'm in awe!

I can't write one about heartache cuz it's too recent, too intense, too unfinshed. But when you get to dirty, silly limericks as the theme, let me know. I've written tons of those.

cyndyj, I have no problem with moving on to dirty, silly theme! Bring them on...

[cpfstich]

I wrote this after granddaughter Camryn was born, framed it with a pic of daughter Amy holding baby Cam, and gave to to Pat.

“To Be a Grandma”

What a blessing it is to be a Grandma.
Seeing your daughter holding your granddaughter,
Feeling your heart swell with pride.
Realizing that despite bumps along the way,
You helped nurture her into motherhood.
Knowing she now feels what you’ve felt all along....
The love a mother has for her daughter.