Me (a poem)

ME
by Lola

Who is this “me”?

the pieces are falling,

skittering, sprawling

all over the place

at an unsettling pace

Who am I to be?

 

How am I to feel?

Discombobulating,

feelings luring and baiting

ready and waiting

to make me reel.

 

What is the time?

Past, future, present

with fraudulent intent

mix up to confuse me

to bruise and abuse me

outlasting the crime.

 

When will it end?

the strength-sapping fighting

my attempt at re-writing

this future foregone?

I’m not yet done.

 

My mind is unsteady

but I am not ready

to bend

 

anymore.

The Tail of the Bird – a silly but tragic poem

Okay, I’m in a somewhat silly mood right now, so I’ll post a somewhat silly poem. With a tragic ending. 😉

I hope you can read my scrawl.

And because the contrast is poor and it’s hard to read, here’s what it says neatly typed out:

The Tail of the Bird
by Lola

the kitty went to sleep
its treasure safe to keep

a bird went by
and since it could fly
at the treasure it would leap
– to steal it

with its beak it took the treasure
but it went beyond its measure
– no real wit

so instead of flying
it learned a lesson in dying.
Tail and all.

(It really only makes sense along with the pictures, though. 😉 )

The Tail of the Kitty – a humoristic children’s poem on serious life lessons

Okay, enough talk of abuse and whatnot today. I just got my feelings back and need something lighthearted and fun and thought I’d share a poem I’ve written.

It scanned fairly okay, but in case you can’t decipher my handwriting, here’s what it reads.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The tail of the kitty
by Lola

Once a kitty lay awake
and thought of funny things to make
and since it was alone at home
it started every room to roam.

The first room held a dresser
five stories high, no lesser.
The kitty climbs, then slips its paw
came tumbling down by natures law.

The lesson kitty learned?
Success got to be earned!

A dark room was the second
“Just hurry!” kitty reckoned
It ran, bumped into things and more.
Oh geez, was our kitty sore!

The kitty’s lesson settled deep:
You must look before you leap!

Into the third room kitty peeked
it hurt, was sore, for mommy seeked
it saw her sleeping in her bed
and almost started to run like mad
but then stopped in its track
and thought a little back.
It looked before it leaped
and: successfully with mommy sleeped!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Haha, and now don’t tell me it’s got silly rhymes and wrong words. That’s why it is a children’s poem. 😉 😀

 

Journey to Myself

Journey to Myself
by Lola (2012)

stagger on into the velvet darkness of the night
stagger on ‘till so-called civilization’s out of sight
creep through the undergrowth where beast roams free
where wild and danger every fate foresee.

sleep on dusty ground as hard as sturdy steel
that’s dry and bursts from drought it can not feel
for safety take that withered trunk of old
forgotten in this desert’s gruesome cold.

then try to cross a murky, muddy bog
across unsteady waters and the densest fog
for help you need to trust a boat that’s leaking
but still you must go on, if you’re still seeking.

you’re welcomed by the raging flames of fire
that try to turn away whatever sick desire
has made you withstand beast and cold and danger
within this land, to which you are a stranger.

to try you further, you will find demonic traps
‘tween tiny patches of solid ground to place your steps
watch out for ancient daggers, pits and spears
avoid the sirens’ gentle tempting song of tears.

if you have lasted, enter now a maze
that turns your senses upside down in daze
that tries to lure you down each deadly end
where naked branches o’er your cold bed bend

and if you happen yet to want still more
the maze will lead you to a stony shore
where you will have to swim across an ocean
that notices your each and every motion.

for if you want to find that tiny isle
you have to swim abandoned, mile for mile
stripped of your every nice possession
that drags you down to horrid beasts’ aggression.

And if, at last, all wet and tired you arrive
be greeted by a sharp and thirsty knife
then try to dodge its fierce and deadly blow
until your skill and sturdiness do grow.

if you survived, if you still got your wit
then for the last and hardest quest you’re fit
you’ve got to find my castle on this empty island
obeying to my rules, ‘cause this is my land.

but if my door will open up to you
all stripped to skin, no shirt, no shoe
you need to be afraid no more
‘cause safety’s starting right behind my door.

Childhood Sexual Abuse – a picture poem

The upcoming holidays are triggering for me. I know it and in recent years I tried to hide from it. That didn’t work so well. So this year I have decided to look it in the face and get ahead of it, maybe. Who knows, it might steal some of the thunder. And if not, at least my therapist is going to be proud of me.

That’s a childhood picture of me – one of the few G-rated ones in existence, and the only one where I didn’t know I got my picture taken. The look on my face is 100% genuine and mirrors the way I felt better than words could.  I scanned the photo, edited the background out and put it along with a little poem I wrote to go with it. (It reads top, bottom, left, right.)

 

Riches – a lighthearted poem on a little everyday insanity

It’s a poem I wrote in response to a show I saw on TV about how people go Christmas shopping. It’s meant in a fun and lighthearted way, but I think it’s got a little truth at the core.  Since the picture turned out a bit small to read it well (and I also made some spelling mistakes), here is what it reads:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Riches
by Lola

Riches, riches people gather
spoon of gold and couch of leather
expensive car’s no luxury
tinsel in the treasury
who has got the biggest jewel?
is the question that is fuel
to the common man’s desire
which makes him withstand hell and fire
on his eternal quest for more
losing sight of solid shore.

The sea of riches will fulfill
man’s addicted strive until
the grass next door seems greener still.

By the way, it doesn’t matter
what kind of riches people gather
as long as they collect with greed
stuff that they don’t really need
just to show off their possession
or – respective – their profession.
The thing itself is not of value
(Of course that’s not what they would tell you!)
It’s other people’s praise they seek
– what other people about them speak.

Which in itself does not give credit
to self esteem (well, if they had it).
A content life? They can forget it.

This is the truth you must endure:
Gather riches and stay poor!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In my approach to see the good things about Christmas, I wish for everyone to keep in mind and to appreciate the things that really matter in life and to remember that those are rarely found under a tree! 😉