Genre: Religion, Philosophical
—
Always be a giver
cast your bread upon the waters
Don’t expect anything back
It is not just the 613 mitzvot we are talking about
It is just a matter of kindness
You know what they say:
They always bite the hand that feeds them
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Genres- Depression, suicide, dark, angry, painful, personality, death, hope, life, relationships.
—–
Stop looking at yourself in the mirror
Your reflection will make you narcissus
Ignore the dark circles
The rough patches
The discoloration
You already know about all of these things.
Don’t think about how you are alive
Have been alive
And will be alive
For a long time to come.
Stop listening when people give you compliments
Smile
Look down
And giggle
Make it seem like you’re blushing
You don’t really feel anything anymore.
Forget the first house you lived in
Let these things wash from your memory
Talk about them
Tell everyone everything about yourself
Once they have it it’s not yours any more
It’s not your burden.
Let people compliment your eyes
Even though they remind you of your father
And every time someone tells you
That you have beautiful eyes
That they could get lost in them
That they remind them of moss
And soft forest floors
Allow yourself to imagine birds
Plucking out your eyes
But never tell anyone what he has done.
Drink
Drink as much and as often as you can
Never seek out the situations
Allow them to arise organically
But take full advantage of them.
Ignore what your body is doing
Pay no attention to the ache in your left kidney
Move past the sharp jolt in your liver
Warning signs are everywhere
But you have to keep running past them.
Get hit a lot
Sit on your bruises
Bite down your pain.
Be loud
Be as loud
As obnoxious
As annoying as you want
Then listen when people say things that you already know
And then cry
And then blame them for making you do things
Things like dumping out their shampoo
Ruining the lock on their door
Carving things into their faux-wood flooring
Never flushing the toilet
It’s not your fault.
Bang your fists against your temples
Like you saw someone do on an episode of SVU
When you were 11 and suicidal
Feel your own rage put back inside your body
Hate yourself
Hate your stretchmarks
Hate the fact that you can’t bring yourself
To do anything other than hit your body
Over
And over.
Kiss people
Stick your tongue down their throats
Even though it makes you nauseous
Feel yourself becoming friends with them
Understand the bond that you have
Never allow it to become anything more
Set up boundaries
Make yourself sick
Make them happy
In the end your own lament makes you overjoyed.
Remember the time you swallowed a handful of pills
And you lie to people and say they were prescription
But they were motrin
But there were a lot
You counted them all out
You got into the shower
You filled your mouth with them
You swallowed
You waited
You threw up
You can’t die.
Not yet.
You have to suffer through a little bit more
And then you can go away for good.
I can’t offer a quick fix
I’m all about the long game
The soft and slow torture
Making yourself a bit more miserable than you already are.
Do these things every day
At least once a day
And you’ll eventually fade into nothing.
And that’s the sweet part.
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Genre: Love
—-
Thank you for wanting, to protect my money
It was a big lump sum, and you made sure not lost,
You were, very nurturing,
Know with your daughter you’re too, at any cost,
You are truly gorgeous inside and out,
As you demonstrated that day, cared for me,
When I went in recently, saw sympathy,
A curse to like the pretty with clout,
You are a ray of sunshine, but out of my league,
When I’m below average in looks, and have a condition,
That makes it hard for me to connect with humanity.
If you gave me a chance, would you downgrade like him?
I’m aware, so I didn’t even try to approach,
I just want you to know then,
You’re an inspirational lass, a life coach,
Our paths will probably never cross now,
And, you’ll probably never see me again,
Don’t call the officers, or try to find me,
And, you won’t hear from me again, now,
I wrote this poem for closure, on St. Valentine’s Day
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCJzLX8_407gfUtT0jhlEcrg – my YouTube channel
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Genre: Life, Rhyme
—-
The ‘shoulds’ paralyze me
They lead to the what ifs, the maybes and the could haves
My target is never stagnant and does not allow me to move
I am unhinged and hindered
My doubts subdue me
My failures asphyxiate me
My gains seem miniscule
My mind prepares a catechism
It just can’t let me rest
What’s right? What’s wrong?
What’s my truth? Am I really strong?
My curiosity sacrifices me to injunction
I trial. I tribulate.
I wonder. I investigate.
What I desire is not always mastered
What I master is not always consummated
So I freeze and second guess
The shoulds paralyze me
I am a hostage to its psychological strangulation
I must bargain for my release
I have to be aware of my capabilities
I must believe in all that is me
Even if that means leaving life more of a mystery
The shoulds are a guide, a formula that doesn’t always add up
Convention can equate to confinement
Rejection can equate to judgment
But the world is not our jury
Yet, the shoulds still paralyze me
~ Mara Prose
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Genre: Nature, Society
—-
Caught in tangles
the comb pulls
cloud-locks
smooth off heads of mountains.
Lake below
finds sympathy
as swans fret its surface.
There are snowflakes
dancing above us
like shiny stars
where we kiss
on the borderline
of commitment and liberty.
Magic has no long term spell.
We are dared and delighted
as tresses of clouds loosen
streaming free
from the grasp
of Winter’s hand.
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Genre: Rhyme, Family Fantasy
—–
What if for a moment in time
I could go back to childhood where everything rhymed
Where silly cats sat on a broom
and mysteries surrounded King Tut and his tomb
Where magical fairies were real as could be
seen through the eyes of anyone three
Where the greatest delight on a warm summer’s day
was cherry Kool-aid and the cold sprinkler’s spray
Where trees were castles that one must defend
with knee scabs and bruises for mother to tend
Clouds became monkeys and stars with the moon
were watched eating ice cream dripping from spoons
Where bedtime hugs made everyone safe
and kisses on cheeks, sunburned and chafed
Where rules were in place to keep order and peace
served up with French fries dripping in grease
Boundaries for safety, yet freedom to roam
all in the backyard of that place I called home
Thank God for the memories that live in my mind
that take me back to a moment in time
(Cindi Walton 2017)
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Genre: Pain, Hurt
—–
Bloodied and blistered are my feet walking a path of
stone, glass, and hot coals.
Wondering when a straight and narrow path turned
worst for the trek towards my goals.
Twists and turns lead to a forever path
of confusion, sorrow, and pain.
Lost. I’m no longer confident in
the things I want to gain.
Always was one good with directions
and was certain of her way.
Till the wrong turn at a fork in the road
led me astray.
Obstacles were always easy to overcome,
except this one. I’m lost.
Now I have no confidence in defeating
any impediment I cross.
Gazes towards the sky hoping He
would answer my cry for help.
In the end there is no answer.
I’ll have to find a way myself.
Demons of self-ridicule, doubt, and hate
ride my back.
On this journey to finding the right path,
I’m always under attack.
Still beaten and bloodied
I move forward to an unforeseen goal.
Hoping that these hardships and
demons aren’t consuming my soul.
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Genre: Rhyme, Relationship
—-
Drenched in tears
of her own shame
but not of her making
He ascended from shadows
and shadowed her
shattering her dreams
as easily
as did her hymen
She became his fixation
a nightmare lived daily
where time
nor the hour
matters anymore
This monster that looks as human as we
invisible
to the eyes
of humanity
The unthinkable atrocities he commits
upon innocent flesh
he posses
Shackled and caged like a dog
She cries alone
A burden
no child should have to bear
She thinks of her mother and
father
of her brother
and sister
and yes
of her dog
Sam
If only she could warn them of
the monster
that lives next door
The monster
that comes to borrow sugar
or sip coffee
with mum on the porch
At times
drinking a few beers
with dad after work
boasting of games played
on the sports network
All the while stealing glances
at us children
She cries alone
Who would believe her
this man
a pillar of the community
always
a helping hand
Can’t you see he’s a sham
a monster
a pedophile
a child rapist
Ask him
as to my whereabouts
see if he answers you
with a straight face
The rattling of the cage
alerts her to his presence
He comes yet again
She cries
screams and
pleads for him to leave her alone
But this only seems to give him pleasure
mocking her
he mounts her quickly
his screams and cries
of perversion
the only sound left
heard in the room
A single solitary tear
falls from her eye
Please God just let me die
she begs
her lament falling
upon deaf ears
Maybe
it is God
who is dead or
maybe
God has no ears to hear
The monster has left the room
but his stench lingers
pervasively
like the smell of death
Is it possible
to smell ones own death
she muses
For surely
she dies a little
each day
The death of
abandonment
the death of
loneliness
the death of
regret
the death of her
soul
If only
she was strong enough
to fight back
She would scratch out his eyes and
rip out his tongue
that filthy slimy thing
she would feed
to Sam
he would eat anything
The thought
giving her slight amusement
The rattling of the cage
startles her
He’s back yet again
She begins to cry…
Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
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Poetry performed by Val Cole
Get to know the poet:
What is the theme of your poem?
The state of America
What motivated you to write this poem?
The state of America
How long have you been writing poetry?
Since high school
If you could have dinner with one person (dead or alive), who would that be?
The Dalai Lama
What influenced you to submit to have your poetry performed by a professional actor?
Seemed like a good idea at the time
Do you write other works? scripts? Short Stories? Etc..?
Short stories, creative nonfiction, novel, prize-winning poet and former journalist
What is your passion in life?
Pretty much given up on people; to bring as much beauty, laughter, and light into the world as i can!
Poetry performed by Val Cole
Get to know the poet:
What is the theme of your poem?
Power of fantasy is the theme of this poem.
Waking up in early morning hours and having a dreamlike inspiration. What is inspiration? Having lots of fantasy and starting to realise it and to handle it can change your life 🙂
What motivated you to write this poem?
Following fantasy and dreams and looking for ways to ‘make them real’ is a great motivator for our lives. This poem depicts how I have started the year 2016 – to the end of the year I have found my reality. I am a poet and this is the path for me.
How long have you been writing poetry?
I have written poetry from ‘91 to ‘98 but showing it only to friends and school mates. I have started to write again 2013.
If you could have dinner with one person (dead or alive), who would that be?
Lady Gaga – I have had a crush on her music lately, loving ‘Marry the night’. Good music needs also good lyrics.
What influenced you to submit to have your poetry performed by a professional actor?
I find it a great idea! Some years ago I have seen something like this on TV and liked it. Such performances are refreshingly attracting more people to arts and to poems.
Do you write other works? scripts? Short Stories? Etc..?
I write short stories, one of them ‘The calm river’ was submitted in autumn 2016 to a publishing contest and is now available on my Facebook Page (would love if you can link to it! http://bit.ly/dora-calm-river)
What is your passion in life?
I am a professional dreamer searching for my Self – the biggest adventure nowadays.
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