2012 April PAD Challenge: Day 8

For today’s prompt, write a rejected poem. Despite some acceptances, many of my poems have been rejected for submission over the years–but that’s not quite what I mean by rejected poem. I’m more interested in poems that work the idea of rejection into the poem somehow. This could take the form of a poet lamenting rejection, though also a rejected friend or student or whatever.

Here’s my attempt:

“When”

the seasons gather & twist me
& murder me & betray me when
you say, “no. please no,” even as
the sun says, “yes,” & the moon says,
“yes,” & the stars & the snow &
rain & puddles & birds & leaves
falling from trees or falling from me
as you say, “no. not now. never.”

*****

Write a Mystery or Thriller…

…with the assistance of the Writing Mysteries and Thrillers Kit, which includes webinars, books, and more.

Click to continue.

 

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335 thoughts on “2012 April PAD Challenge: Day 8

  1. Bruce Niedt

    Just for sharing, here’s an older one that fits Robert’s prompt much better than the one I wrote today:

    Rejection Triolet

    We really liked the poems you sent.
    Alas, they do not meet our needs.
    You MFA was time well spent –
    We really liked the poems. You sent
    us sonnets though – it’s our intent
    to print free verse – unmetered reads
    we really like. The poems you sent:
    alas, they do not meet our needs.

    1. PSC in CT

      Ouch! It’s usually not gone though, Melissa. When you receive the message: “You are posting comments too quickly. Slow down.” try backing up to the previous page and going back to the same place you input your poem or reply. (If it was a reply to someone else, the trick may be remembering which reply you were on. If you were inputting your own poem — that’s easier to fine.) Either way, if you reselect the same comment or reply, you will usually find that it is still there, waiting to be captured. Sometimes I get that message several times — and I’ll back out and reposition my cursor on the same comment and hit enter again. After another attempt (or 2 or 3) — it takes, without my having to re-input it. Hope this works for you next time!

    2. PKP

      AWWWW agree with all who went before
      And some sweet irony here in this rejection
      Of the poem that’s here for the disappear
      I do in my broken sleep reading adore!

  2. Mary Mansfield

    Unfinished

    His promises cannot redeem
    The dusky shadows of a dream,
    A mate who finds truth obsolete.
    Her story is not yet complete.

    Overwhelming feelings flood,
    Addiction buried in her blood
    That reawakens when they meet.
    Her story is not yet complete.

    She dies a bit with every kiss,
    Staggering into the abyss
    While destiny makes its retreat.
    Her story is not yet complete.

    Nothing but a wounded sparrow,
    Lies have cut her to the marrow.
    Deserving much more than deceit,
    Her story is not yet complete.

    Singing broken songs of sorrows,
    Focusing on her tomorrows,
    An ending she will not repeat,
    Her story is not yet complete.

  3. DanielAri

    TOO YOUNG FOR THE WAITING ROOM

    and the night comes before we know it
    that Alice’s daughter makes her corsage,
    more confident in her own skill than in
    the florist’s. The next night, Ty comes
    to the door, receives the corsage and pin
    from Alice and pins her daughter with
    young man’s panache. Rather than beam,
    I go into gruff old man mode, the least
    I can do as stepfather, impressing him
    with my expectations of his safety,
    sobriety and gentility even if he’ll
    roll his eyes once he leaves the house.
    When they come home, Alice and I
    are watching late TV and see that Ty’s
    night has not met his hopes. Petulant,
    cavalier farewell from him, impatient,
    dismissive one from her; and Alice
    shrugs, and I know she’s relieved that
    her daughter will be called the prudish
    set of names rather than the opposite,
    for now, anyway. Ty goes where Toby
    and Kai went, to the waiting place where
    they don’t have the understanding or
    patience to stay put and put the time
    to good use. Bless Alice’s daughter:
    she is not prudish nor cruel, just taking
    her own time, setting the pace she needs,
    and that’s something of a miracle.

    FangO

  4. lady maggie

       
    Rejection Accepted
       
       Their one must keep.   What we three can’t release
       their one must hold.   What we three won’t adjourn
       their one must take.   What we would not unlearn
       they must pay homage to.   Too strict police
       to run their’s street.   Not shamelessly caprice
       enough.   Not thought that much of.   Taciturn
       in tune.   What’s too unwanted.   No concern
       for either our decrease or their’s increase.
       
       Discarded objects’ shadows do impose,
       don’t they, on territories newly claimed
       so need must be put down.   Rejected.   Those
       get left no chance of honor being named
       except to gauge what comes against what goes
       in terms of who gets credit for whom’s blamed.

       
       

  5. Rosangela

    Yeah… I guess everybody has had at least one significant rejection in life! ;-P

    I know

    I know you didn’t mean it
    and you were just following rules.
    I know it hurt you, as much it
    hurt me. We were just two fools.

    First we were fine,
    Oh, those “one moment in time”
    would last forever.
    We belonged to each other.

    Then, you were a kid
    being called by the mother.
    And you run, run away, guilty…

    You did it.
    You broke the spell
    and put us in hell.

    That’s how it was…
    and we were both in loss.
    I showed you a way
    but you said no. You said go!
    You rejected me,
    still wanting me, anyway.

    I know
    it was not you saying no.
    It was your principles, your fears.

    But your rejection didn’t kill me,
    only dried out my tears,
    and your love, so coward
    didn’t make me soured.

    I know you didn’t mean it, though.
    You just couldn’t stop the flow.

    Maybe you still need to grow.

    And I – I’ll love you forever. I know.

  6. Nancy Posey

    Fourth Place

    “You’re all winners,” the chief judge told them all
    before they left the room, relieved that speeches
    were over, but fully aware that the four of them
    vied for three trophies. Early lessons in losing
    may be fine in theory, but when the reality
    of coming in fourth sinks in, he doesn’t think
    he feels like a winner. Rejection rarely masquerades
    as championship. Just ask the other boys leaving
    with trophies and trophies, their parents stopping
    just long enough to make “Good job” sound
    like a consolation prize, a slap in the face.

  7. Bruce Niedt

    I got a late start today. The other prompt from NaPoWriMo was to take a walk outside and write a poem about your observations. Unfortunately, I didn’t read that prompt until after dark, so I wrote about another outside activity I engaged in today. Also, I had trouble reconciling that prompt with Robert’s “rejection” prompt, so my rejection reference is perfunctory at best. Anyway, for what it’s worth:

    Easter Morning

    At first I’d rejected my wife’s idea
    of an Easter egg hunt in our yard for the kids,
    the youngest of whom is sixteen.
    They’ll think it’s childish, I said.
    But she prevailed, so here I am creeping
    around my yard at ten a.m. trying to hide
    three dozen plastic eggs with prizes inside,
    and I discover that the hot pink and orange ones
    are the hardest to camouflage. I carry a notebook
    and mark the location of each egg,
    because at my age it gets harder to remember
    details without a list. It’s not such a bad day
    to be out here, sunny with a cool breeze.
    I plant a blue egg under the boxwood,
    a green one inside the rain gutter spout.
    I come across my neighbors in the side yard
    under my blooming dogwood tree,
    dressed to their Easter nines for a family photo.
    I send my holiday wishes and make a joke about
    my notebook, then continue on my secret mission.
    Later, when our guests have arrived, my wife
    sends them out to the yard – two teenagers
    and four young adults, one in spiked heels –
    to hunt for eggs. They have a ball. She was right
    after all. As they chatter excitedly about their finds
    and the goodies inside them, I look back
    at my dogwood, and notice how much it’s grown.

  8. maggzee

    Accepting Rejection

    I understand
    what I overheard
    So now she wants to be free

    I know I was late
    In the early morn
    But she should hear the truth from me

    She held me up
    Then kept me down
    And my poor heart was sinking

    I did what’s right
    Because she left
    And went to do some drinking

    Sometimes it’s useful
    To get wasted
    I’ve no dignity to preserve

    My adultery
    Was childish
    I got what I deserve

  9. Nancy Posey

    School Picture Day *

    Watching my daughter, so unsure at fifteen,
    sorting through her closet, sliding hangers
    left to right, choosing her red sweater, then
    tossing it aside for a concert tee—her first.
    Too busy, she decides, opting for simplicity,
    a blouse in soft peach , good against her skin,
    she announces to me, doubt in her voice.
    School pictures still hold a gravity to her,
    an indelible mark frozen in time, peering
    from her freshman yearbook page for decades,
    she imagines. Likewise, she works her way
    through earrings, rejecting feathers, ladybugs,
    deciding that her tiny hoops will do. Near tears,
    hair is another matter as she struggles
    to subdue her stubborn wave. A ponytail
    won’t do on picture day—too childish.

    I bite my tongue, reserving my critique,
    aware that in this process, nothing a mother
    says can help, might even make her change
    her mind again, starting again from scratch.
    It dawns on me another girl about her age,
    nearly forty years ago, had other matters
    on her mind: To have a child or not, to keep
    her or to let her go (to let me go) instead
    of picking earrings, choosing blue jeans,
    shoes or sandals. Maybe what I’d felt
    as her rejection might have simply been
    a letting go, a way to offer me a fuller life,
    a life without her, not to free herself
    for a life without me as just another
    fifteen year old girl with nothing more
    on her mind than what to wear to school.

    * Purely fictional, by the way

  10. Connie Peters

    Rejected Cornerstone

    When Jesus was born,
    Herod searched the land
    to prevent Him from being king.

    Christ’s countryman thought
    He was too common
    to be anyone special.

    The religious leaders condemned
    Him for making Himself
    equal with God.

    The people who once
    honored him as king
    yelled, “Crucify Him!”

    Many now reject Him saying
    He’s too narrow in His thinking,
    when He claimed,

    “I’m the way, the truth and the life.
    No one comes to the Father
    except through Me.”

    Even the tomb rejected Him
    since, as the “resurrection and the life,”
    He didn’t have the right qualifications.

  11. Margot Suydam

    Mountain

    Since you left me
    scraping the back
    porch with a shovel
    I still see your hot
    spot photograph
    with orange rings
    well poised high
    over bolder fields
    our above tree
    line balancing act
    framed by a peak
    you promised me
    we could ascend
    as one slim stalk
    but now we shoulder
    time and it burdens

  12. Kaitlyn

    Soul on paper

    So many words
    Curl up inside me like a
    Tense, metal spring.
    They looooooong to
    GET OUT
    GET OUT
    GET OUT
    Each delicate word crafted with love bleeds in the ink of my pen as I
    Release them
    “Read this.”
    Requested hopefully.
    Minutes drag, DRAG on
    My soul on paper,
    In ink,
    Through words,
    Reflected in your eyes.
    What do you think?
    I DONT KNOW!
    Agony.
    What do you think?
    “No.”
    Answered coldly.
    My dry mouth,
    Cramped fingers,
    Broken heart,
    REBEL.
    Wasn’t my soul on paper good enough?

  13. barbara_y

    rejection

    the carrot with grasping fingers
    the lumpy bed, the too-small dress
    the fish too strange to cook
    the elbow-breaking book
    the gray-green bread
    the doggy kiss
    the fleas at the petting zoo
    the feeling lingers like morning breath
    do they feel rejected, too

  14. Walt Wojtanik

    TAIL LIGHTS IN THE DISTANCE

    Fading lights diminish in size and intensity,
    and when you have a propensity to love
    with all your heart and all your soul
    it is the hardest thing you have to watch.

    The dinner and conversation seemed promising,
    but she was hell bent on not relenting,
    Love’s elevator never lets you down easily.
    It’s an express to the basement of emotions.

    Any preconceived notion you had
    About an ever-lasting something or other
    drove off into the night as you fight the
    pain of another volley of “let’s be friends”.

    And so she left you standing, confused
    and feeling used; but knowing that
    in the end you’ll be better off throwing the minnows
    back in deference to the next big catch.

    Her tail lights in the distance
    signaled a left turn out of love.
    That made it easier to walk away
    and live to love another day.

  15. Kendall A. Bell

    Spurn

    You will not find yourself in this
    poem, leaning against a railing by a
    rippling river while the sun drifts
    slowly down. You will not find us
    both staring at the same stars, in
    some cluttered sky, littered with
    cliche and sentiment. You will find
    your advances jettisoned to some
    distant time, where I was weaker.

    Each line, each stanza
    has been dismissed.
    Each emotion I once held,
    rebuffed by my better judgment.
    Each time I felt the pressure to
    display a fabrication to placate the
    black hole in your empty union,
    I discarded the words and lit them aflame.

    This will be the last line I waste.

  16. Benjamin Thomas

    PLEASANT STILLNESS

    My boy, so stunningly resistant
    This perky child simply refuses to sleep
    My own flesh and blood
    Adorably defiant
    Makes constant nonsensical shrieks
    Powered by youth
    These resilient rabbits
    Bounding, breaking every waking rule
    Have elastic will
    Perfectly capable and well intended to rule
    But every day the same, is well measured
    In the end, every child subdued, simply just lies still

  17. Jane Shlensky

    The Last Word (a shadorma)

    You think that
    your dismissal broke
    my heart, but
    I reject
    your rejection. I dismiss
    myself. Ha! Take that!

  18. Jaywig

    Day 8 – rejection

    A Mother’s Lament

    On the ferry from the island
    where we lived briefly
    she said, “You’re so OLD,Mum!
    I don’t need THREE grandmothers!”
    She was ten.

    On her twelfth birthday
    something unimaginable happened.
    It was 11 September in the States.
    After that, she stopped
    holding my hand.

    But now she’s twenty
    and it’s I who say:
    “You’re too old now.
    I don’t need lodgers!”
    and “I am giving up
    hand-holding. Let go!”

  19. Andrea B

    Sought After

    I cannot resort my chronology
    to include you—I bury

    gin in my petticoat,
    tears in a bedchamber.

    You pilot bombers, search
    for survivors in bunkers.

    I sought out a sandstorm
    to level the mountains of time
    into a wasteland,

    a bladesmith
    to meld our planes.

    I scour the ground for divots,
    hoping to see the flash of your eyes

    to ask if you have been on safari for me,
    even if the answer is no.

  20. drwasy

    STEEPLE

    Sunday morning before church
    you wrenched the last
    small bits of care
    and flung them,
    indifferent,
    to the floor.

    In the tremulous light
    our son stacked one block
    atop the other.
    We watched until
    the tower wobbled
    and you walked out.

    ***

    Peace, Linda S-W

  21. Linda Voit

    Rejection

    Sometimes I wonder how broccoli takes it
    standing on its stalks holding all that vitamin C
    and other gifts, knowing it can support her skin
    and muscles and bones like nobody else
    at the cellular level, desperate to make her see
    it can help her see and even strengthen
    the pump that distributes her very
    lifeblood. It is so obvious

    they are meant to be together.
    It presents itself, in tight, green curls, raw
    and ready to dive into ranch dressing head first
    if that’s what it takes. Or it’s steamed and dressed
    in unimaginable emerald, anticipating.
    And just as it approaches, she wrinkles
    her nose, turns her face away on reflex, throws
    her right hand up, palm out, a patrol guard
    strong enough to hold back city traffic, and says
    Get that stuff away from me!

    Linda Voit

  22. Arrvada

    Reject Me
    By
    Arrvada

    I didn’t ask for life
    I didn’t negotiate my way onto this plane
    You chose to bring me here
    To carry me
    Birth me
    Raise me
    You made me
    And I became real
    I grew and thought
    Tried to please
    Was this not what you wanted?
    Was I not who you had in mind?
    I became me and you saw
    You looked and saw what I was
    You saw me
    You rejected me
    I am your creation
    The culmination of nature and nurture
    You abandoned your creation
    You reject me and
    You’ve rejected yourself

  23. amelia louise

    Masters

    Ever so gently
    I swing.
    Breath held,
    eyes riveted,
    prayer hailed.
    Smoothly it sails…
    to the outside
    of the cup.
    Hope of
    green abandoned.

  24. Jane Shlensky

    Cottage Industry (or Recycling Rejection)

    Spring cleaning always revved her up,
    washing away winter and waste,
    putting closets to rights by removing
    bad ideas boxed in darkness
    and re-imagining their futures
    with feathers and ribbons.

    The rejection letters housed
    as a tribute to the ways No can be phrased
    and kept like an exhibit in the museum
    of her blasted hopes suddenly took
    on purpose under her new eyes,
    jetsam to lighten her load back to float.

    One stack, folded, laced, and sewn
    created a sturdy bowl woven
    of critical opinions to hold fruit;
    one batch made a lovely tray
    bird feeder; seedlings planted in
    cones of rejection soon transplanted.

    She did not reread a single one
    humming and folding, painting and
    trimming, her collection of rejection
    recycled and re-purposed, as she redeemed
    herself, origami returning from childhood,
    suddenly thinking, papier mache!

    1. PKP

      “a sturdy bowl woven of critical opinions to hold fruit….seedlings planted in cones of rejection”. Brilliance shines as a blazing light of “rejection recycled “. speaks to its theme and so very much more – a shimmering life lesson of reclamation of self and not simply letting go or “shelving” but transformation… Exquisite ! I could sing BRAVO!

  25. Karen31

    Sorry, No
    (a cultural rejection note)

    Sorry, Jimmy Choo,
    but I reject the shoe
    you built to shape my ass –
    I think it’s pretty crass,
    and really nothing new.

    Sorry, Ashton, my friend,
    your two-and-a-half-men
    is stupid-lazy-and-mean –
    you out-sheened Charlie Sheen.
    I won’t tune in again

    Sorry, Movieland,
    I’m turning down your brand.
    A film that teaches killing and rape
    is a high-tech how-to tape.
    There’s not much to misunderstand.

    The American entertainment scene
    has betrayed the American dream.
    The peace and love connection
    requires wholesale rejection
    of the cultural depravation machine.

  26. Marianv

    Rejection doesn’t mean the end of the world,
    It just seems that way.

    A young college girl, rejected
    From the sorority of her choice
    Another young girl who fell in love
    but the one she loved, loved someone else
    And the artist whose artwork was
    Rejected from the gallery that he thought
    Was the best place for his work
    The poet whose submission of poems to
    A wll-known magazine was returned
    With only the word “Sorry” written
    As an explanation.

    Who, if they have lived for more than
    five years on this planet has not been
    Disappointed by a rejection?
    It is as common as eating and sleeping.
    Mis-understandings, failures to explain,
    Unrealistic hopes, or hopes too high,
    Misjudging another’s actions, simple
    Thoughtlessness – all are thing which
    We learn to overcome and move on,
    Even though we know it can happen again.

  27. Sharon

    The Hunt

    The hunt begins
    I see it in his eyes
    Though he can’t say it
    Not without a lot of trouble.
    Too old. That’s what he’s thinking,
    She’s ancient; all that gray hair and attitude!

    I don’t get it.
    I’m not young, that’s true,
    But I’m smart and quite capable,
    Willing to work, have credentials galore.
    Oh well, this clueless HR guy may not want me,
    But someone will. The hunt continues. I will overcome.

  28. Charles Cote

    FUGU

    Raw river pig, lethal puffer,
    Emperor’s bane in Nikon-koku,
    Jaw-crusher to the mollusks,
    Easter stew in New York City,
    Careful tongues prefer you,
    Taxing to the masters.
    Enough of your poison
    Damns the sashimi.

  29. Sheryl

    We Should Have Been Rejected

    The tax collector was a sinner.
    He beat his breast and would not
    look up. The Pharisee by his side
    thought he needed no mercy.

    Zacchaeus was rich. He had
    cheated people. He loved money,
    not God. Jesus was coming. Zacchaeus
    was curious. Was there hope for him?

    At first both criminals crucified
    by Jesus made fun of Him. For
    some reason one of them changed.
    He asked Jesus to remember him.

    I have not perfectly loved the
    Lord with all of my heart nor
    my neighbor as myself.
    I need the sacrifice of Jesus.

    He lived a perfect life—
    yet most on this earth
    reject Him. The Father turned
    His back on Jesus for our sin.

    Rejection is over. He is risen.
    He is risen indeed!

    Sheryl Kay Oder

  30. zevd2001

    BROKEN DREAMS
    Hello, I come to tell you
    I am going, not because of me
    where you are going. It’s not fair
    to send messages, so sincere
    you want me to understand, to run

    out in the streets. Now that I am free . . .
    ready for something else, you, still,
    it’s clear when we crossed
    that path, yes. It was as if
    at that moment you took
    your first step. Without knowing

    the direction out of the doorway.
    I was there, once,
    returned. Curiosity invited you play . . .
    I could have told you
    before. You would lose, but everything
    is up on its end, upside down. Maybe

    you have found some other, be happy . . .
    take him where you are, spend the time.
    I ought to go, no point
    in overstaying my welcome.

    Zev Davis

  31. Linda Rhinehart Neas

    Rebuff
    As the plate was pushed half-way down the table
    and the children held their spoons in mid-air,
    I realized that this meal had become a metaphor
    for our life together.
    Never satisfied, you rejected the food on the plate.
    Never satisfied, you closed the door on conversations
    with your insistence to be right.
    Never satisfied, you pushed me from your life,
    as surely as you pushed the plate away in disgust
    when the desired taste you dreamed of turned out
    to be too flavorful for your palate.

  32. taylor graham

    I CALL THE WIND LOKI

    A small sable whirlwind
    between my hands, she quivers with raw
    energy like weather untaught.
    Her name is Loki, mischief.
    Four months off-the-calendar hurricane-
    season.

    Mine
    is her third home. Rejected
    by the others. Just now
    roughing the cat, ragging the old dog.
    Before that, tornado-
    debris sticks all over the yard.

    We’ll survive this. The muscle-
    quiver loosens. Her muzzle at my ear,
    sighing puppy-breath. Soon
    enough, the breeze up-
    canyon will cease, the old dog
    lower himself to sleep.

  33. competitivewriter

    Last Friday Night

    I gave my gut a shot of whiskey
    and then it asked for more
    so one became two and soon
    two had turned to four
    we were having a good time I thought
    as four flowed into seven
    and after that I lost count
    but went well past eleven
    until the last golden ounce remained
    I swirled it and inspected it
    then threw it down the hatch
    my gut promptly rejected it

  34. Michael Grove

    Each Others Shoes

    Hers were a pair
    of glass slippers.
    His were some
    older work boots.
    He tried to squeeze
    his foot in one of hers
    and shattered everything.
    She took one look at his
    and walked away.

    By Michael Grove

  35. Dare

    We Regret To Inform You

    We regret to inform you
    that you are no longer
    a part of the human species.

    Due to our recent upgrade
    you no longer meet the
    qualifications for this position.

    We suggest you try another species
    or perhaps another planet as they
    may have less stringent requirements.

    Thank you for your participation and
    good luck in finding an appropriate
    position elsewhere.

  36. PKP

    Mama Made Me Do It

    He thought he shouldn’t
    couldn’t wouldn’t
    she was too pretty
    too smart too swingy-hipped
    for bespectacled science
    smitten him
    but Mama said if
    she looked back
    “Go on right up”
    and he did
    as she walked
    right on by

  37. Domino

    Rejected, But in the Best Way Possible, Really

    A child is born, his mother cries
    she swoons, she loves, she often sighs

    Her baby’s sweet and perfect face
    is all she needs to live in grace.

    And as he grows, she sees him learn
    to turn and roll and kick and turn

    And soon he walks, how wonderful,
    she just wants him to be more careful.

    Walking, running, jumping, climbing
    Bicycle riding, muscles priming.

    He doesn’t want a kiss, please, Mom!,
    She’s sad, but takes it with aplomb.

    The more he grows, the less he needs
    And though she’s proud, her heart just bleeds.

    With his mother’s prompt attendance
    He soon gains his independence.

    With bittersweet, loving goodbye
    She learns to let her baby fly.

    With the conviction love allowed,
    His autonomy makes her proud.

      1. Domino

        I’ve had to let go again and again with my three boys. </3 But the purpose of motherhood is that eventual "rejection" of all help. It is sweet to see them fly.

        Thank you, Brian.

    1. PKP

      Exquisite capture of the truest mother-love the smiling release, the breath caught watch as they catch the wind and grab not for our hand Standing on a chair applauding! …. Now back to sleep for me.

  38. Nimue

    Rejected dreams

    There in one corner,
    lie some of my dreams
    termed part crazy or
    impossible,
    by everyone but me.
    I keep them safe,
    and hope some day
    I will make it true,
    just one, any one,
    if not all of these

  39. Andrew Kreider

    Reason No. 42

    After that kind of a weekend,
    broken legs, sore head,
    hair singed from harrowing,

    I would not have had the patience
    to play hide and seek around
    the garden in the early dawn,

    or to walk for miles with two
    dimwits at dusk, just to
    disappear without warning.

    No, I would have woken all
    those fair weather friends who
    left me for dead, shaken them

    till their eyes rolled back and
    asked without a trace of irony:
    So… how do you like me now?

    1. Linda Voit

      This is awesome. I don’t know what I would have done — maybe I would have gone shopping for a sarcastic gift for Peter — a rooster.

  40. claudsy

    Last for the day.

    The Tangled Web

    It began with a tiny thing;
    A lie of that day’s convenience.
    A first strand in the web you wove
    To make yourself important, and
    Disguise truth you could not bare shown.

    More silk strands followed to entrap
    The weaver in tales unforgotten,
    By those brought to emotions ruined.
    Thoughtless weaving. Strands delusions,
    All make to tangle the weaver.

    Go now into your web of lies.
    Seek only new fools to believe.

  41. lionmother

    Sorry, I didn’t have a title for this. Posting again with a title:

    Smooth

    He sat in front of me in chemistry class
    His smooth brown hair all I could see
    as the teacher recited complicated
    sentences I paid little attention to
    as thoughts bubbled rising to the
    surface giving me hope and
    courage to finally, finally
    open my mouth and speak to
    this letter jacketed hunk so
    close to me and yet so far
    away on a plane with the
    popular crowd shining and
    unattainable and yet I
    struggled one day at the
    end of class
    heart pounding in my throat
    anticipation thickening my
    voice as it squeaked out
    the few words I had rehearsed
    in my secret wonderings
    hoping this time, though
    my hair was short and not
    the long shiny waves of the
    popular girls and my fourteen
    year old body not yet formed
    he would say yes and I would
    be on the arm of my crush
    who would clear the aisles
    as we glided past all the
    harmful glances
    So I said the words to his
    open and outstanding face
    watching as he carefully
    answered with his own
    and no one saw the
    invisible knife as it tore
    into me and left me
    shattered in front of the
    table of elements.

    1. lionmother

      Thank you, Pearl, Domino and Jannelee. This prompt was hard, because it dredged up all those long ago feelings:)

      Pearl we seem to be on the same train of thought. Your poem is even sadder, with no reply at all.

  42. claudsy

    First for the day.

    Whisper’s Allure

    Whisper soft came your urgings,
    Touching deep inside with needs unmentioned,
    Taking time to root beneath wall of safety,
    Moving toward ultimate takeover.

    “Can you hold me?” you asked in the dark,
    Whisper soft came your urgings,
    Never breathing a hint of your design,
    Taking my faith in love for granted.

    I fell, quickly to your lumberman’s saw,
    My need to fulfill those of yours, even as your
    Whisper soft came, your urgings
    Driving me further from myself and my haven.

    Soon you left me behind, crumpled and weary,
    Broken on the steps of love’s temple sublime,
    Never to understand why now after
    Whisper soft came your urgings.

  43. lionmother

    He sat in front of me in chemistry class
    His smooth brown hair all I could see
    as the teacher recited complicated
    sentences I paid little attention to
    as thoughts bubbled rising to the
    surface giving me hope and
    courage to finally, finally
    open my mouth and speak to
    this letter jacketed hunk so
    close to me and yet so far
    away on a plane with the
    popular crowd shining and
    unattainable and yet I
    struggled one day at the
    end of class
    heart pounding in my throat
    anticipation thickening my
    voice as it squeaked out
    the few words I had rehearsed
    in my secret wonderings
    hoping this time, though
    my hair was short and not
    the long shiny waves of the
    popular girls and my fourteen
    year old body not yet formed
    he would say yes and I would
    be on the arm of my crush
    who would clear the aisles
    as we glided past all the
    harmful glances
    So I said the words to his
    open and outstanding face
    watching as he carefully
    answered with his own
    and no one saw the
    invisible knife as it tore
    into me and left me
    shattered in front of the
    table of elements.

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