A Bit of Random Verse

Yesterday’s snippet was brand new. Today I am employing the right of recycling by digging through old poetry and tossing out three for perusal. They are each significant to me (or were, as I was pondering them last night at around midnight( for various reasons.

Shallow

Shallow sadness is often cried
With tears quickly shed and quickly dried.
The deepest sadness is still and stark,
Enveloped in profoundest dark,
With silence as its dearest friend
And realities that will not bend.
With no hello nor clear farewell
To help define its private hell.
And so, while wading deepest grief
Our calmness covers our belief
That living will not be the same,
And love is powerless over shame.
Not with affection nor with hate,
But absentminded indifference bait
Out hearts in cruelest careless smile
With not intent to reject or beguile.
The deepest cut, the tightest chain
Is not rejection or disdain,
But oblivion to our pain
And unwillingness to remain.
And so alone we wage our war
With aching arms and longing sore,
While no one sees or thinks to know
Or miss us as we turn to go.
So shallow sadness we can bear,
The deepest pain we never share.

What Little Girls Are Made Of

Sugar and spice, and everything nice,
I don’t know about that.
But today I would like to be wearing a dress,
And a beautiful, Sunday church hat.
To be facing the sun with my hair blowing back,
In a meadow, of course, full of flowers,
With some pink lemonade and my sweet puppy dog,
Not running inside when it showers.
My feet would be bare and my cheeks would be burned
While the dandelions blow in the sun.
To fall in the grass and look up at the sky,
To make sweet tea and call people “hon.”
I love all the perks of just being a girl
And the lace and the frills and the pink.
It might just be trite, but I really don’t care.
I’m a woman, and that’s what I think!

My pen of absolution
Is fat with dark ink longing for the page.
Its length is smooth, hard, and rounded
In my tightly gripping hand,
Sliding up and down between my fingers.
Shouting the refrains of my confusion,
Death, and hope –
Bittersweet with subtle fragrances
That others often miss
As I take refuge in hiding
Behind its cryptic phrases.

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