Self 80
Moderator: Jonesy
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Self 80
i feel the blue child within me dying.
she has had enough pink days to last
her through another difficult red week.
i know that sometimes when a flower dies
it falls, droops away from the window,
dropping petals and pollen upon the table.
the blue child within me is not dying
this way; she is curling up into herself
and drying out into an unrecognizable color.
stiffening; the blue child within me does
not stir; she is preserved in honey and
still as a statue; petals folded neatly.
she does not unruly flip the table over
when conversation once again becomes trite
and sour, self-absorbed; narcissistic, friend?
she does not, in futility, plead to more colorful
gods; the ones who might better understand the
nature of these sublimely pitiful immortals.
no, the blue child dies within me whilest
glasses clink and eyes roll and hearts silently
break: resilency and overcompensation abounding.
the blue child dies within me; and no one will
weep; there will be no parting words; there
will be no remorseful, recumbent reminiscing.
when the blue child dies within me
a desperate wind will push its way through
and a last breath will whisper its innocence.
when the blue child dies within me
a lilac will grow in her place.
Lilacs are a dainty, sturdy and gentle flower.
Self 80 is a poem from the lilac interlude section of my chapbook Pink&Blue:100 self portraits
she has had enough pink days to last
her through another difficult red week.
i know that sometimes when a flower dies
it falls, droops away from the window,
dropping petals and pollen upon the table.
the blue child within me is not dying
this way; she is curling up into herself
and drying out into an unrecognizable color.
stiffening; the blue child within me does
not stir; she is preserved in honey and
still as a statue; petals folded neatly.
she does not unruly flip the table over
when conversation once again becomes trite
and sour, self-absorbed; narcissistic, friend?
she does not, in futility, plead to more colorful
gods; the ones who might better understand the
nature of these sublimely pitiful immortals.
no, the blue child dies within me whilest
glasses clink and eyes roll and hearts silently
break: resilency and overcompensation abounding.
the blue child dies within me; and no one will
weep; there will be no parting words; there
will be no remorseful, recumbent reminiscing.
when the blue child dies within me
a desperate wind will push its way through
and a last breath will whisper its innocence.
when the blue child dies within me
a lilac will grow in her place.
Lilacs are a dainty, sturdy and gentle flower.
Self 80 is a poem from the lilac interlude section of my chapbook Pink&Blue:100 self portraits
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Re: Self 80
really nice scarlett.
recover
recover
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Re: Self 80
Wow Scarlett. I'd love to read your chapbook. You have an extremely elegant way of writing, its like a smooth whiskey on my tongue. The last line was unexpected in its bare, encyclopedic-like tone. So striking. Lovely. Thank you for sharing, thank you so much.
Be not the slave of your own past. Plunge into the sublime seas, dive deep and swim far, so you shall come back with self-respect, with new power, with an advanced experience that shall explain and overlook the old.
-Ralph Waldo Emerson
-Ralph Waldo Emerson
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Re: Self 80
wow you sure are talented.
Last edited by Jonesy on Wed Feb 26, 2014 9:08 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Reason: Changed MT to NT
Reason: Changed MT to NT
GrowingTree
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Re: Self 80
scarlet, its written so elegantly. I love the delicacy of flowers that you used here. I would be glad to see more from your chapbook. I am not sure what exactly a chapbook is, but im assuming its one of creative writing that a person keeps for his own personal use.
Last edited by Jonesy on Mon Nov 03, 2014 6:13 am, edited 1 time in total.
Reason: Changed MT to NT
Reason: Changed MT to NT
GrowingTree
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Re: Self 80
thanks, you all. I can post more if you like. my chapbook is the collection of poems together in bound form.
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Re: Self 80
Scarlett,
I really loved this poem.
I really loved this poem.
All women are beautiful. Period.
I deserve better than survival.
I deserve better than survival.