Author: poetryfest

http://www.jeanneyoung.biz

Narration by Val Cole

How much longer can I endure this pain locked and loaded with the chambers full of shame

How could you do this, take my innocence away

You brought darkness to my life causing great chaos and disarray

You were supposed to be my protector and forever keep my safety in mind

I’ve been so violated and scarred my sense of self is basically blind

You slowly built a prison around me

One where escape was unlikely

You convinced me that it was because you loved me

But your idea of love caused me to live in a huge amount of fear at all times

Consumed by it, paralyzed by it, controlled by it, often spinning me into a wild fit.

The rage that occupies my mind, body, and soul

Caused me to live a life so out of control

I never thought I would break out of your prison of hell

It was if you had me under some sadistic spell

You convinced me that no one would ever love me, care for me, accept me- that once they got to know me they would flee

But you were wrong

I am not weak I am strong

Like the trees around me that bend and sway my will does the same

It dances with the sorrow that follows me that consumes me but it does not break me.

Your storms that wreck havoc do not destroy everything but the darkness they create make it an unforgiving task when looking for the beauty

The beauty of love, the beauty of compassion, the beauty of connection

When the darkness gives everything a place to hide its as if the pain is all that exists

But my will to carry on to keep fighting this battle is still with me

You have pushed me to the limit time and time again but I push back harder

Many nights I have sat on the edge of my bed my face moist from the tears streaming down, my body shaking from the fear that this will never end

But the fog lifts at some point and the beauty can be seen and felt once again

The cool damp floor that I continue to dance my way across gives a strong foundation for everything to build upon

The darkness and pain I endure give me gratitude for when the light shines through

I will fight this war to the end, I will weather the storms, I will move forward again and again.

I am a survivor

-Kate Murphy

How well you laugh away my fears
Of growing old.

There is no time for getting stale
Because you nudge me ’round to see
The joys of breathing out,
So breathing in will come faster
And always more delicious.

Now, I seek out the shade:
Puff out steam, cherish the cold
I bring it home to you
Just to watch your toes curl up.

My shopping list for you, dear friend
Gets filled up with clichés so fast
I don’t know what to write to you
That you’d read without just slipping your glasses
Further down your nose
And wondering was this really
Addressed to you.

So I sing you the same few jingles
Varying only the notes and gusto
About how I truly fall more
In love with you each day
And tack on some hoorays and hugs
Repeating that I really mean it

Feeling luckier and luckier every squeeze
And more and more at home.

Genre: Sad, growing older, content.

(inspired by my mother)

Ever think of lost friends and what they might be doing
Or remember dreams you had when you were young
If you’re like me you’ve often wondered
How did the years fly by and just what have I done

So many things I thought I would accomplish
The list endless, like waves rushing from the bay
All those things I put off until tomorrow
Would simply wait until another day

I never wrote that book I planned on writing
Spent too little time bouncing my children on my knee
I never told my father that I loved him
Thanked my mother for the things she’d done for me

I always thought I’d get to Europe
Maybe stroll along the river Seine
But in this life we don’t get a do over
Things missed rarely come our way again

So hug someone special and tell them you love them
That is always a good rule of thumb
For you see we can’t rely on tomorrow
Another day doesn’t always come

Children scribble on doors,
Chair, sofa, and floor.
They annoy their parents.
Markers quaff their savings
For rainy days beauty,
And comfort.
They go on forever
With crayons and pens.
Toddlers have fun.
And they wet and soil
Mattress, sofa,
Favorite chair.

Wind sweeps the air.
Hundreds of moons
Traverse the skies,
And the scene
They reverse.

What to do with
Those Old Guys of now?
They dump into chairs,
And sofas.

It is high time for
Past-grown-up kids
Anger the babies of yore
With odors of diapers,
Spurt and all.

But what about those stains
—some remain—
On that mattress,
And scratches on the teak floor
Babies had ruined?

Low and behold,
The old angels forgot.

What to do with parents now?
Old grown-up kids
That slumber on chairs and sofas?
And the bins of used diapers
With scents of gloom?
What can those sweetie grown-ups do?

They had their bags packed.
One-two-one-two-one-two,
And they file for
The eviction parade.

One-two-one-two-one-two,
Bed, lamp, jammies, and pillow,
Moan and yawn:
Miles and miles run by the car windows.
The tires screech at the entrance of a building.
It is the sterilized shelter for rambling strangers.

Leftover parents make their final stop before they sleep.

I want to run
to leave my ID.
my new identity
is only for me.

Morrison went to Paris
a poet was his gain.
maybe he was right,
but did he still have pain?

To be in the woods
no electrical or running water.
Living by the land
no doorman or porter.

who are you?
a deer looks at me.
come listen to my music,
and you will see.

my art too
is free to your eye,
for you understand
why I used to cry.

everything old left behind
no one here to put me thru the grind.
the stars look so bright
on my new hilltop at night.

© 2023 all rights reserved

I swim in the sea, fly in the sky, crawl over the Earth.
I seek other animals, invite them into my lair;
we dance together in fire: modeled Shadows of before.
The tide hisses in the snow, Bubbles on our hips swing out and die, Their rainbows stick
Cooking new air we breathe.
Phases, ever-changing Moons, breed sustenance.
Awake or in sleep, a song ricochets inside heads,
Sings, booting starlight.
We are the animals of the day. We bring the fear, the love, the path, thru the gate where we all can
travel,
Sharing or denying the others: allowing for mystery or demise of possibilities.
Retracting claws, eschewing blood,
I prefer to eat the flowers of suns and drink waters of gold rippling thru the Never-Ending.

Cat Mother – A Picture Book with a Magical Story

Stillness….

Drowning in the humidity of loneliness

Above water, dry breathing and can’t seem to catch my breath

While my lungs fill with collapsing thoughts of an aching heart

Water ripples like signs of a struggle while my hand is raised reaching for the surface in these tempestuous seas

Sinking feeling inside yet my body is grounded

I try to brush myself off but pieces of me fade away in the wind like dust off an old statue over the years

But expeditiously

Everyday is like a war and I’m an army of 1

As I walk the the valley of the shadow of death in darkness

Waiting for someone’s warm in embrace to help light the way with companionship

Suffocating in cold thoughts, claustrophobic and screaming into abyss

Immersing deeper into the void waiting to explode silently like the titanic submersible

—-

Genres- dark, loneliness,depression, sad, hurt, emotional

They placed a constraint upon her,
shackles now weighing down her wrists.
Tendrils slip past her cheek, drenched in blood and sweat
bits are dried, and others wet
As the bite of metal tears into the tender skin
She wonders how did she wind up here?
What was her sin?
Was it the beauty of her face, bronze and supple as sweet as a young doe’s
But why, then, would she carry such deep-felt woes?
Shouldn’t something so precious be allowed to flourish not be kept in silence, beaten, ridiculed, and forgotten
always wondering…
why was she forgotten?
Her voice was muffled with a loud slap
and stripped of her dignity, they beat her with everything..
whack.
whack.
whack.
Her cries were met with a roar of berating – words full of envy, cruelty…focused on hating.
Her spirit eventually wore completely down
and in time she was quieted…her voice no longer found.
Society branded her for speaking out her truth, and carried her through this new Age Inquisition – robbing her of her youth.
She is your daughter.
And she is mine.
Let’s hope we can change this
before we run out of time.

© 2020 Sai Marie Johnson

Six o’clock. The sun is setting.
Lying down, life is getting
Anxious, depressing, always forgetting

Then three pops. Pop pop pop
What was that?!
Then a scream. Aaaaahhhhhhhh!
From a woman

Stepped outside to investigate.
In a scared, cautious state.
Hey, hot shot, what happened?
Mexican said ehhh someone got shot
No big deal. Desensitized mate.
Shoulders shrugged up and out.

Walked back inside sighing
Started the stove for pan frying
Chicken or pork chops?
Chicken or pork chops?
Chicken or pork chops?

But someone got shot!
Here at Harvard Heights. It’s just
Ehhh…someone got shot.
With shoulders shrugged up and out.