Today’s Shadow of May – and it’s not late! Surprise! The question asked was: How can I learn from my mistakes?
‘A Short Story, by Me’
It’s beautiful outside, I’m sure,
But even knowing this I want to deny
My existence towards the world in a childish,
Petty anger. I’m angry – yes, of course,
Truly! Towards myself most of all,
Sure, but I want others to feel it,
I’ll hide in my room every hour instead,
Refusing noise and people by rage reading
Every book I previously stacked in awkward areas
About my room in all the nooks, crannies, and corners.
Pointless, it’s pointless – everything! but the words.
It’s beautiful outside, I know, but I made
Some little, shameful mistake, and yes, I know
That the best thing to do would be to leave
And leave my childishness on the shelf.
Late, but not by much! I’m feeling slightly more alive than yesterday and so I’m taking this chance to catch up on the Shadow of May challenge. Yesterday, day twenty-seven, prompted: How do I feel about my accomplishments?
I don’t mean to brag, but
I’ve got hands on experience
With bad luck. I was born bad,
Unlucky, never ever stopped crying,
My mother swore to me, I never stopped
Until she put me down, shut the door, and
Turned off all the lights, the t.v, and the radio
In the house we never got to live long in.
I was a bad omen baby, she,
Bless her heart, she wouldn’t pick me up
It was my fortune, and I was
Bastardly fortunate, I guess, in some ways.
I learned to lose parts of myself quickly, and
Eventually put in the wounds left behind
More usable things, more unstable limbs.
A quick learner, my teachers would say.
I was such a quick learner, and maybe I was
At some time. I’ve got a few plaques with
My name on them shoved into my closet, behind
Some things I don’t remember ever owning.
Bad luck, I’ve got the experience, so
I think I know when I tell you how
It’s bad luck, to ever assume
Okay, so I’m trying to power through these and get caught up. I’ve finished day Twenty-six of Shadow of May which asked: What is my direction in life? What is my purpose? Yesterday and today’s are just notes sitting on my desk right now – hopefully not for long.
Tell me what it is I’m trying to be,
The Queen, the King, the Knight,
Oh, night! It’s time, allow me to wash
My hair tonight in that icy, icy sea.
Tell me the truth, tell me please,
How there are many kind and gentle things,
People, really, and though I don’t always
Consider myself one of them – often,
It’s every so often that some one looks
With eyes too soft at me, telling me –
Cruel. I don’t want to talk, and so I won’t.
I refuse to be anything but cruel to me.
I like the challenge, oh, it’s a challenge yes –
Let us go wash our hair in the sea, tell me,
Why shouldn’t I? Why shouldn’t I be anything
But cruel to me – I am driven to overcome.
Yes, I want to overcome the life I lived,
But couldn’t live. Is there not something
Beautiful, yes, and cruel, in wanting to be
Something else other than the me I’ve seen?
Lately I’ve been feeling out of it with my writing. It happens from time to time. I just haven’t been enjoying the tone that I’ve developed over the last few weeks, maybe it’s because I haven’t written this regularly in a long time and it’s spreading me thin. I like to think I get better piece by piece, but, alas, instead I usually get annoyed and feel like I write the same poem nine times. They all start to bleed together and seem… I’m not sure how to say it. They don’t read clearly for me. Anyway, my point is – I’m trying to.. move back to more solid and clearer language. I’m also not a huge fan of first person, but I suck at everything else. Lol.
Enough of the word vomit. Today’s Shadow of May asked: How do I express myself?
In the south we are taught
Hospitality is keeping to yourself
While reaching out to others, like
Cold lemonade offered in the summer.
Polite, Friendly, and just shallow enough,
Not to be intrusive, but
You would not realize it by the letters
I mix together every night and morning-
There are so many emotions that I am
Just too weak and unwilling to express.
Pen ink appears much warmer on paper
Than any ounce of forced politeness I give.
The summer is usually so warm, but this year
I have grown to love the cold,unnatural storms,
And I enjoy seeing my face in the puddles they leave.
There’s just so little time left for cold lemonade
When it storms, and sometimes it’s better this way.
You don’t need lemonade when the heavy, wet air will do.
The warm pavement, warm ink, warm everything – it hurts
And most times, I’d prefer to keep all that to myself.
Have I ever mentioned how hard it is for me to name things? Like, I’m terrible at it most days, but today I just couldn’t decide.. But I guess this will work. Today’s Shadow of May asked: What is my hatred to my energy levels?
I have learned, ever so slowly
To stay tender despite the bitterness
In the many years I’ve lived and seen.
I like believe the most terrible thing I can do
Is spit in their face by refusing to be mean.
Easily, I’ve grown to live and love
All those terribly disruptive emotions
That kinder people would find so distasteful-
All that negativity, the sour and bitter things,
Such as drowning in sadness and feeling hateful.
They’re a part of life, at least half of it, surely.
Emotions so strong and uncomfortable they sit heavily
Inside of you, in your stomach or lungs, on the tongue-
I enjoy them all in my own way, contemplating how it is
That they are there, waiting, but mostly left unsung.
They are so usually unsung, except in hate-
And it’s ironic what we’ll do to those who feel
A little less than human for more than a minute.
Tenderness comes from living painfully and knowing
That we can’t expect everyone to be perfectly absolute.
Here is yesterday’s Shadow of May! I’m still a little sick – but I’m going to try and keep on top of these. I at least want to get through all 31! Even if I’m a bit behind in some areas – the challenge asks some very interesting questions… Yesterday’s question was: How do I perceive pain?
‘All the Little Hurts’
I’ve grown to hate the question,
“Who hurt you?” as if all the little hurts,
Many little hurts, many little things
That make a person over time can be pointed
To some single person to blame it all on.
Pain has become a natural part of my life,
It’s all the little lost hopes, the forgotten dreams-
All which hurt and have made me who I am today.
It has never been just a single person,
Someone tangible that I can be protected from.
I love how it’s never been that simple-
I would never have got here if it was.
Here is today’s Shadow of May! The prompt was: What is limiting my happiness? Why?
It’s the wait that is the worse-
Will it ever end? Longing without purpose
For Something unnamed and unexplained,
What do I want? What do I want?
I want to know, yet now I fear to know.
The wait is by far the worse thing in my life –
I’m taking my sweet, sweet time finding out.
The school semester is almost over and work has been a little crazy, but I still managed to get today’s piece done! Today’s Shadow of May questions were: How do I treat others? How do I treat myself?
‘They Told Me’
Home is where the heart is
They will tell you
But what if I don’t want to go
To where my heart lies.
Why can’t home be where I’m safe,
Not a place where I’m afraid to open
The front door, a place I haunted-
Another heart, sky, and world.
Why can’t home be
The simple thought of existing
Home is where there are people,
They will tell you,
Who love you, sometimes.
But sometimes I cannot bare to look
Anyone in the eye, not after all those nights
I spent intolerably alone,
But I still offer little hellos
To strangers because I remember being
Strange, alone, mistaken, and abused, once.
It’s not the best thing I can do,
But sometimes the only thing I can do
Are little tiny words.
The final day of NaPoWriMo is here! I managed a solid 29/30 which is much more than I expected to accomplish. I have a tarot challenge picked out for May to participate in and have plans to post a poem for each day based on my readings, so hopefully I will still be active daily.
The final prompt was to write about something that reoccurs. Here it is:
‘Again and Again’
Every night, and sometimes day,
I lay my head down and I just lay.
I lay there and I think and I dream
And I hope and I worry at everything.
If I could sleep away every sorrow,
Lay down, say goodbye until tomorrow-
Or the next day, the next day, another day
Until, in time, I wake with some hope again.
I want to stop going to bed in equal parts
Of hope and despair, dreading but wishing
For what another day might finally bring-
I want to wake up and feel my heart sing.
I dream sometimes and I think other times
Of all the things I’d do if only I didn’t just lay,
Lay here, down here, dreading my future dreams
To act instead of thinking constantly of pointless things
Sorrows may grow like dandelions every day,
But could I not grasp them, could I not play with them
By blowing their spores into the wind with wishes
Causing more in time to grow, more little sorrows.
Again and Again, I lay my head down and say-
Maybe I can sleep away some sorrow today.
But every morning I wake up still waiting to know
If another day is full of hope or wasted until tomorrow.
Today’s prompt was to write a letter. This feels unfinished to me – maybe I missing a stanza, but I don’t want it to be too lengthy. On the bright side, this is only the second time this month I’ve posted late! I must apologize – I’ve been sick.
‘Letter to Love’
My Love, we all do terrible things
To ease own troubled minds-
A little nick here and there, maybe
A breath of harsh, but fresh air,
A little something less to temper life.
Darling, it’s all personal, all collateral,
I can love another all day, but at night,
Come night, I cannot bare to love myself.
Sometimes you must, you just redirect the pain
From one area to another, emotional to physical.
My Sweetness, my only Sweetness to sweeten
The scares and scars I get when I feel I not quite
Here. Disjointed, Unreal, Unready, I feel-
And I do not feel, so I learned how to do terrible things
To ease, to temper, to try my troubled mind.
My Dear, forgive me for all I dare to ask –
I do not know most days who I am or what I am called.
Please, give me a name, give me something to call
What it is that this body does, has become,
Let me answer to something I can grow to love.