CW #11

Wanting

The funeral was today.

She had always wanted to hear the words, “I love you”, just once from her father.  In fact, those words were the only words she said to the church before she took her seat once more.

Her wedding was today.

She had always wanted to get married. Every day she told her husband that she loved him. In fact, she said it so much that he got sick of hearing it.

Today was her divorce.

She had done everything she could to convince him to stay. She cried, begged, threatened, even said that she loved him but he still walked away.

Today was her due day.

She had always wanted to have children when she was younger but she was afraid to raise them, afraid they would leave her like her husband. She kept her distance, she didn’t tell them she loved them, she let them do whatever they wished and hoped that they would love her for it.

The funeral was today.

Her son stood in front of the church and looked at his mother’s body. He opened his mouth and then closed it. His brow furrowed in concentration and he heaved a great sigh. After a long minute he told the near-empty church that he had always wanted to hear the words “I love you”, just once from his mother. In fact, those words were the only words he said before he took his seat once more.

CW 10

Revision piece

Am I Not Important?

My walls are fighting with each other

They can’t seem to agree on what to do with me

So later today, one will simply run away

There are no posters or paintings on the walls

They think they are naked and bare before all

They believe me cruel, uncaring

For them, summer brings sweat and winter chills

They dream of living on sunlit hills

I’ve discovered that I don’t need

Plaster to shield or wood for shelter

An eagle flies above me

As if unbound and free

I can taste their envy

For the things that I love more than them

Am I Not Important? (edited)

My walls are fighting with each other

They can’t seem to agree on what to do with me

So later today one will simply move away

Leaving others to bear the weight

There are no posters or paintings

No colorful covering conceals their form

They think they are naked and bare before all

They believe I’m cruel uncaring

For them summer days bring sweat and winter night chills

They dream of living on sunlit hills

Anywhere but here everywhere but here

I’ve discovered that I don’t need

Plaster to shield or wood for shelter

Fleshly masks or bindings of cloth

An eagle flies above me

Unbound and but not free

Forced to follow a path already taken many times before

I can taste the envy of these four walls

For the things that matter more than them

CW...? 9?

#6

I know nothing about list poems or prose which will probably become obvious when you read this...I tried.

Backyard Highway

The land is barren and for this reason, it exists only as an extension of an already forgotten world. Signs for the illiterate are stationed like useless guards. They say nothing because they remain unseen. Eyes behold them not nor do ears receive their warnings. Pathetic and forgotten-this land is not an example you should follow.

It is dusty here, so dusty. It enters your lungs, stings your eyes; it holds onto your clothes with its stupid fingers. It comes from the land but never strays too far. Always hovering, shielding its maker from all who come to see him. Dust covers the crooked signs that are scattered in meaningless places. You couldn’t read them if you wanted to. Annoying and stupid-be nothing like this place.

She’s taking a break, allowing herself to have a moment of rest before she must get to work again. Beautify. The word is simple but the act is tiring. She can’t sprout life when winter freezes her womb; when she pushes her children out, summer dries them up; and it is hard to focus on her job when man begins impaling her with his words. Yet, she is still here-like she has always been. Strong and resilient- you should feel honored if you become half of what she is.