What Is Shown Versus the Hidden Unknown

17 01 2012

I hate you

I just want to talk

You killed my heart

Once upon a time you made it grow

You made a fool of me

I fell hard for you

The heart-tears you put me through

The smiles you put on my face

You cheated on me

I still want you

I hope you’re damn happy

I’m not

You don’t deserve me

I’m the only one who understands you

You’ll never hear from me again

If I call, will you answer?

It was all your fault

And mine too

You’ll never find another like me

No one makes me laugh like you

Good riddance

I weep for us

I wrote this because we so often put on that angry face and hide how we truly feel because we don’t want to be considered pathetic.

Many of my love poems have been in existence for several weeks, I have to wait to publish those because I have to get over the feelings.

Andrea Z.

 

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The Idea

17 01 2012

I love quotes and I love poetry, so I had an idea to combine the two.  I hope to do more quote inspired poetry and perhaps even hold some contests in the future…….maybe…….I do encourage you to write words that the quote evokes from you, if any.

It is useless to send armies against ideas.

-Georg Brandes

An all-consuming fire

Carried by winds

Higher and higher

Blasting straight through

Every brick wall

Adversaries forced

On their knees to a crawl

No bullet can harm it

No jail can contain

Or knife try to maim

This unseen force

Of so many names

Fight it

Deny it

Close your eyes

And not see

This age-old fury

Like pounding rain

It cannot be ignored

This ultimate instigator

The Idea





Fake Paternal Love

16 01 2012

– This is a poem I have been needing to write for my entire life.  It’s my first step to healing the wounds my father has inflicted upon me.  You can grasp much of the situation from my verses, but I will tell you more.  My father has never provided for me.  He does not pay child support or medical bills or anything.  My brave, strong, and amazing mother has done everything for me.  They treat her like crap, him and his female dog of a wife. He tries to make me feel guilty about not coming to visit him and about asking him to pay for my school trips.  

This is, I realize, a very angry and vengeful poem and I hope someday I will be able to write one that is not as much so, but that day seems eons away from this one.

 

Not once did you apologize

For all those lies

The endless stream of excuses

A brilliant rage in me induces

Fake paternal love

Is the poison arrow shot

By a cruel hunter at a naive dove

Someday I will make you pay

For treating my mother and I this way

You have no right to chide me

For pointing out the truth

You are an irresponsible child

And make me look like an adult

By never doing as you should

I’d shoot your foot if I could

When I am older

I will rain down on you

A thousand legal boulders

One by one they’ll crush

Till of you there’s naught but mush

Even then I will not have my revenge

My ire will someday fully be released

And all you’ll be able to do is cringe

 





Coup de Grâce

16 01 2012

She was down on the ground

Balled up in defiant defeat

He had her in his palm

One last kick

At her shaky pride

His victor’s grin

He could not hide

She told him he’d won

He said he wasn’t done with the fun

She told him to leave

Find someone else to torture

With words so very cold

And threats so very bold

He said the last spurn would be his

And he made it so

Her mind and body red and raw

He raised his fist

A coward’s coup de grâce





The Dead Villager

14 01 2012

Here I lie

Unseeing eyes

Wanting to cry

Those soldiers have come

In planes so large

They block out the sun

Shots destroy every silent night

My whole word screams but one word, “FIGHT!”

Who said they could come?

Who said they could come

And just take over

Pushing us around

Like a bulldozer

I’ve seen atrocities

That would you astound

And knock you speechless

Flat on the ground

Like me

In this hot desert sand

A worthless olive branch

Limp in my hand

We don’t need them

They think they’re so good

Go back home

Words are for peace

Not soldiers with guns





He Shot Me Down

12 01 2012

I was a high-flying plane

A migratory bird

A hot air balloon

Happy as a clown

But then he shot me down

Down, Down, Down

Still happy as a clown

A very stupid clown

I fell in love with the ground

Terra firma was nice

But pure joy has a price

A love swollen heart

I was told would suffice

So small a fee

I seemed to me

I had traded my heart for lies

And watched my fantasy

Unravel before my eyes

That cruel boy

He shot me down

With arrows dipped

In liquid lies of love

But I escaped

Higher, Higher, Higher

And patched myself up

Love is something

Of which I’ve had enough

 

 

 





The South in Haiku

12 01 2012

Sorry, I couldn't make the picture any bigger. The South is the farthest region down on the right, in dark green

I am from the south. Most days I am proud to be a southern belle, but sometimes I am not.  Please do not think that these haiku are exact representations of the south.  As a matter of fact, they represent the general stereotypes of the south.  Many of my readers are not from the US, and I wanted to give them a taste of where I am from.  The haiku below do not represent the entire, distinct culture down here.  There are in between’s and also a great deal of cultural diversity.

The above picture shows vernacular regions, also called perceptual regions.  Vernacular regions are not formal regions and exist only in our minds.  A more global example would be the middle east. Other maps will show different shading and generally the southernmost part of Florida (my home, the little part jutting out at the bottom right) is not included.  Remember, vernacular regions are what society makes of them

 

WHY I HATE IT

How big is your truck

How muddy are your old boots

How redneck are you

 

Do be god-fearing

Don’t accept progress and change

Stay stubborn as hell

 

Oh look, it’s a deer

Let me get my brand new gun

BAM! Look at that rack*

 

* refers to the size of a deer’s antlers

 

WHY I LOVE IT

Please come in and sit

Southern hospitality

Will never turn down

 

Condensation falls

Sliding down a tall clear glass

I love my sweet tea

 

Great big families

Always there, love and support

There no matter what