Nursery Tale Night Terrors
today
I live
a poet, a liar, a slut, a nun
a seer and the crazy one who comes undone
a woman who rocked babies
in a lambskin leather coat of arms
one who weathered well with age the harm
of a night-terror cage
locked in sugar-spice layers of little-girl rage
reared in a body with a mutton-penned mind
no escape from the relentless glitch in time
where a daughter
a pretty-pet
scamper-scrolled the ups and downs
the meadow haze of hate
a bypassed
bygone gate
ever goes round and round
a pretty-pet, shutter-shell shot
shut away in the dark
with little-lamb ears to hear the shouts
and no womanly cries
to dry
pious eyes
her lens auto-focused forever in reverse
no depth to the fields of woolen, ragged tears
just sheared tints of yesteryears that bleed into…
up through a crack in my sour mood
your words bubble
sweet white-milk froth
one touch
to soothe-smooth that morning’s sting
and all the smarting, silly sorries
stirred by my thirsty-morning pique
float free
from
that twitchy, bitchy red-eyed witchy
faux she
who had been me
limbs laced with lavender
your pale girl slips into the foam
beneath the silken canopy of your kindness
ribs unfold
passion bellows
in, up and out
until my stone-hard head no longer pounds
and
bids you rub my feckless grief in to ease
pain and pained relief
don’t let me pout that nasty stuff, my love
or run my mouth
my insides always run sweet for you
and I will keep you near
here
about
and every-anywhere
rather than
do without
your sane gaze
to glaze my heavy temper
and damn my current crazy…
it makes me cry
to see the lies
in your pure Pollyanna
pleading eyes
as they shine back from your looking glass
while you press that pink pencil to your lips
pull the corners up a little too tight
to match the denim mini-skirt
knowing its the only thing
that will hug you close tonight
look hard, can’t you see
there’s no reflection
in your morning mirror
beyond this latest man’s projection
of who he wants you to be
don’t send that text
give him the first pick
what do you expect
it’s just a chick flick
give him his space
take it at his pace
- so many rules in a thought-circle race
the links to chain you in your place . . .
until like magic
he clicks his two-timing, daytimer
and casts you a dual role
pretty princess for a day
and pinup plaything who can’t stay
the…
I’ve learned that sharing strategies to cope with depression and PTSD can help and perhaps enlighten others in a dark time
I’ve been pushing deathly darkness deep down in my gut for months now. The bleak black that sent me down the rabbit hole when I was 11 during my first bout with bipolar mood disorder returned about two and a half months ago.
That, combined with PTSD (an ongoing struggle for me) amid the latest round of lockdowns in my community, has made this latest bout of the blues a tough one.
A shared experience
Even so, I see a new light may shine across society about the struggles of those of us who live with mental illness. …
On the elements in and out of style
Please don’t make me stay
for “show, don’t tell” time
with all the wannabe
Mr. Kings
who spit out and spout
the leftovers from their writer’s diets.
I’d rather write what I don’t know
and hang out where all the cornered phrases go
lost in all I do not know I know.
the lusty nights
the makeup sex
the childish fights
the shame that comes next
at last, are forever gone and done
for two who loved too wrong, too long
who steered their lives with lily-little, white lies
and weathered two-timing, stormy hearts
for far too long, for all, so wrong
all hurts on deck
the secret’s out
we’re lost
we’re tossed
overboard and out
beyond the edge of all reasonable doubt
guilty as sin
for no relationship set sail on lies and salty tears
will stay the course in a shipwrecked affair
we, the faithless, unfaithful ones
who shred our hearts on hidden reefs
who rocked and rolled in waves ’til dawn
with one to whom
we did not belong
undercover, on the quiet, in the wrong
slid a shabby, slipshod slide
to where cheaters’ love dies
all for a selfish fling
an ever-unhappily-never-after-all ending
goodbye
always going, going, gone
for two who loved so wrong, too…
Will you be there when I land?
awake, engulfed in sunshine rays of you
life moves like a musical dream
as you tap-tap-tap dance through my mind’s eye
the morning air hangs happy and hot
still tinged with embers from the night before
close and warm with a sweat-soft echo
your whisper
of my name
a flutter of lemon-yellow covers kicks high
falls into a soft and easy sigh
bare feet brush the bedroom floor
to stand in a new world
that rings and sings and zings about you
swirling and twirling
silly-little-girling
toes still half curling
for more
Could a dull marriage really free her from the dating herd?
Gretchen Stine’s heart had been shredded so often she no longer longed for a love life that burst and exploded into rose petals, sparks, and Lizzo ballads. Though she had survived the three-year, sex-and infidelity-fest fiasco that fed her last round of heartbreak, now she wanted simple romance. As in almost and even dull.
She knew Eugene Waters was her “new” type the day they met. Any man who bordered on boring when he tried to retweet a meme about the President must be a safe and steady choice, she decided. …
No longer do I seek the key
the one that answers you and me
all ears tuned to your whisper of my voice upon the wind
nor do I puzzle out the reasons
like some banged up Rubik’s Cube
it’s really over.
My mind’s eye is at last empty of that silly, endless loop
you and me
Ashley and Miss Melly
flying swift down the plantation path to lock in each other’s arms.
I imagine no more original sin.
I see a key glint golden in a sunlit field
I feel my feet pound the grass
atop wildflower petals the color of the sun
And me
crowned with a daisy weave, shining in my hair. …
