We’ve done favorites of things we like. Today, take the opposite tack and write about something you could just as soon do without. Put one hand up and say “ENOUGH!” Use the other hand to write your poem and purge the offender from your system.
MARIE ELENA’S BANE:
VICE
Once
Twice
Rolled the dice
Twice
Thrice
Paid the price
Sound advice:
That’ll suffice.
WALT’S BAD MEDICINE:
ENOUGH!
I feel the drip, drip, drip
making my voice nasal,
and throat irritated. Into my lungs,
bronchi inflamed. Enough of this
my fight is against my “-itises”
Sinusitis and bronchitis
might as well go to hell.
I’m not well and it is their fault.
ENOUGH!
YES ENOUGH RED TAPE
That keeps a new family apart
Baby born today
Mom and baby over there
(Philippians)
While dad is stuck over here.
(Washington State)
Such a difficult situation!
So sad!
Marie Elena
Very sad.
Thanks – She is a beautiful little baby (naturally) . Her names mean all sorts of nice things like grace and love…. Her name is Hannah
Wow, so very nice, Marjory!! I’ve always loved the meaning I’ve held within this name: Full of grace, mercy and prayer…is the one my mom gave me. The warmest of smiles…
Beautiful… another Hannah in the world! 🙂 🙂 !!
:)….
There needs to be a “cut through” department. A telling poem. Nice,
Amen. May Hannah be united soon with her dad.
Blessings and prayers, Iris
Some things are just WRONG … I hear your pain Marjory – with all the things that people could be up in arms about … keeping a family apart? I just don’t get it … and it’s just as bad here in Canada … a friend’s son can’t get his Chinese-born wife and kids (who have landed immigrant status in the U.S. and have had for a number of years) – he still can’t get them into this country … he has work here – she doesn’t need work or welfare – I cannot imagine what the problem is …
Yikes!
THANKS to EACH of you – feels like a circle of concern and caring wrapped about us. A nice feeling.
GOSSIP
I have heard
all
that I can stand!
Wish I had written on this topic myself! Perfect, Hen!
Marie Elena
I agree!!
Thanks ladies, it’s a difficult one to address. 😦 !
Thanks. We need reminders to keep our tongue out of other’s business.
Thank you, Iris, it brings soo much pain when others have no idea what they are talking about…!
Ooh, I know how that feels!
Thank you, Sara, the pain can be immeasurable.
“Shame”
Mind, resolute yet again,
strikes out on its own
leaving Heart’s oracle pincing at air.
Clever trees bend with Mind’s force
as it litters a gloomy frost path
to the palm of all life.
Outside a smoking cottage,
angels and ghost children play hide-and-seek.
Children of Spirit do not countenance
what energy has possessed their father.
Imprisoned creatures skitter
through twisted woods as Mind stretches further,
forging through limpid deep country
without an alibi or Body.
Detached, stolen away from both
pretense and Spirit,
Mind bites its own tail, claiming
“I am the first source
and I am the final delta.”
Mind snaps like a roasting twig.
The archer’s Ego quivers.
Kinetic pain is everywhere,
returned like an upstroke
of atmospheric Energy,
Mind sprawls at home,
crucified on a potty-chair.
It is the Beginning and the End
of nothing.
Ego is expressed so uniquely here.
“Clever trees bend with Mind’s force
as it litters a gloomy frost path
to the palm of all life.”
Nice one!
Thank you, Hannah.
Had to read three times. Some great lines here. Powerful poem.
Wow…
This was a great read. I like the frequent references to the Mind and I nominate the line, “Crucified on a potty-chair” as one of the top 100 all time great lines in a poem. Well Done.
Ah – so elemental some shame and so everlasting – well done Richard, a very nice write …
I like “Mind bites its own tail.”
~CONSIDERATION~
I may just have to ask you to leave
if your tongue you cannot leash,
if you continue to wantonly weave,
If you’ll not rest and grant reprieve.
Winding your words carelessly chose
you continue to offend and impose,
(cause for heart to be raw and exposed),
I’ve told you before I seek repose.
I’ll have you know you’ll have to go.
You have a choice to use your voice,
yes, to this I will agree
but my heart gets hurled,
my gut simply curls,
my faith tightly furls;
I fight the urge to be surly.
In this matter I complain,
I wish I needn’t explain
how achingly deep this pain,
when taking the Lord’s name in vain.
I’ll have you know you’ll have to go.
You have a choice to use your voice,
yes, to this I will agree
but I implore of you,
will you choose not to misuse His name?
© H.G. @ P.B. 5/20/12
A wonderful summary of the conflict between freedom of speech and the way it sometimes hurts others. “you have a choice to use your voice” means that you also have the choice to hurt others with your words. A beautifully and thoughtfully written piece, Hannah.
Thank you, Linda!! I really appreciate such a thoughtful comment!
Yes…
Thank you, Hen. 🙂
🙂 !!
This one is a great one for you Hannah. So conversation like and clearly spoken with a dynamic last line. I REALLY enjoyed the somewhat random nature of the rhyme scheme and the use of repitition with a couple of key lines.
Such a nice comment to find, Michael!! I’m super glad you like d this one and also that you mentioned the rhyme scheme being “somewhat random,” made me laugh because at first it was and then I got a whole new sort of form-ish thing out of it!!
Thank you! 🙂
Good thoughts, Hannah. “You have a choice to use your voice.” and then to end with; will you choose not to misuse his name.” It is a choice I pray more would make. Thanks.
Iris
How well you’ve put your thoughts here Hannah – how casually some of us do take the sacred for granted and slur names profanely without thinking … thank you for this.
Thank you, Sharon. I’m a pretty tolerant person but when it comes to this especially if its a ridiculous amount of times saying it and in my house to boot well that’s just enough in my book! 😉 Smiles!
The leashing of the tongue. It’s a tough muscle to train. I know what you mean.
It sure is, jLynne! Thank you!
Sooooooo with you on this on! Thanks
You’re welcome and thank you!!
Oh, yes Marie…sound advice ignored…ugh. Nice one to highlight. 🙂
To this I will agree, Walt’s had enough of these, “-itises,” so get well is my reply to this and a healing seal of a smile. 🙂
Happy Sunday poetical peeps!!!
! 🙂 !
Yes. Please, Walt, take care of yourself, spoil yourself, and get better very soon.
Enough is Enough
Every morning kitchen entered
eyes alert and looking downward
was that a roach or worse a mouse?
creepy crawly pests around the house
she grabs the spray
she got one cornered
one quick short burst
then it’s slaughtered
but what she really fears the most
worse than even seeing a ghost
fast and small, grey and whiskered
scurrying pals of hated Willard
she takes up arms against the vermin
powerful poisons to leave em squirmin’
she remains vigilant but mostly daunted
into her dreams crept, leaving them haunted
but still at bedtime after lamp she unplugs
she starts to feel itchy, please god not bedbugs!
~ Randy Bell ~
OH, you summarized my worst fear! You were able to both make me giggle and make me squirm with this one. Love it!
Thank You Linda
Yikes… but you made me laugh despite!
Bugs
If you squash it, eat it!
People kill without thinking
at the drop of a hat
A black speck crawls across the floor.
A Monty Python foot stamps down,
bam! Sent to eternity in a smear
of flesh. Why? What could it do to you?
The impulse to kill: irresistible.
Is this done out of fear?
or diverted aggression –
insect or fellow human?
That black speck had a right to life
just like you or me.
Will you eat it? No.
So let it be.
Yes Viv you are right “People kill without thinking
at the drop of a hat” Maybe that’s why when the Beatles wrote “Let It Be” it resonated with the whole world. So yes Viv you have a kind soul with a message but personally I’m a picky eater!
Aw, Viv, you too catch the spiders and throw them out the back door! 🙂
yes I do.
GOTTA LOVE MY JOB!
Education, big frustration
No support from administration.
Dedication, innovation,
I deserve a big ovation!
No! Not an evaluation!
LOL! I can still hear my husband echoing… 🙂 !
It’s disturbing the way our teachers are treated. A standing “O,” from me, Linda!! Thank you, for what you do! 🙂
Indeed!
Three cheers, standing ,from me.
Thank you all! (takes a bow and retires)..
Past the Date
You can toss it out
without any guilt
glugging it down the drain
with your head turned
to avoid any possible
stench
and there is no offense,
for milk proudly tells you
when it has had enough.
I have seen your head
turn from me
and I can smell your
disappointment
gritty
and clumped
with bitterness
while empty white jugs
pile like snow on our back porch.
Wow, I can feel the hurt! Great analogy and wonderfully written, Patricia. I have been in relationships that have gone “Past the date”. Not good….
“… glugging it down the drain…”
Opps… meant to say, Unique phrase that captures it!
Painful, yet beautifully written. Loved every word of this.
Sour milk and jugs put in their place. This poem has a very interesting “Tone” to it. Something tells me this is not just about expired milk. Very well done.
“empty white jugs pile like snow…” nice.
Good one, Patricia.
Nowt so sour as a relationship past its sell-by date. Clever metaphor poem.
Plague
The beauty is a beast is disguise.
Her warning signs are simply much too vague.
She drops her hints and calmly tells her lies.
She’s to be avoided like the plague.
Like the plague to be avoided,
You’ll be gutted, sliced and skinned.
Stay away, go home and pray.
Don’t throw your cautions to the wind.
Too many will not heed her warnings.
Most will see with blind mans eyes.
The truth will always hurt you less
than dying with unspoken lies.
By Michael Grove
Painful… !
maybe painful but you nailed it Mike …
beauty like that is no beauty at all,
enough is too much.
very nicely worded.
Great prompt, guys. Short shadorma, for now.
No Mas
Enough of
this silence, that way
you have of
spitting me
out. I stand now, brave enough
to wave adios.
Ohh, the courage, De, the Courage!
Hear, hear! or even Here, Here (I never know which it is!)
That’s Life
I’m fed up.
I’ve had enough.
Who’d ever think
life would be so tough?
If I have money,
I have no time.
There seems to be
no reason or rhyme.
Floating down the stream,
headed for the falls.
Relentlessly,
the stream never stalls.
It’s a weird set up—
peculiar, odd.
What can I do,
but turn to God ?
Amen, Connie. 🙂
Yes, Connie!
Connie, Even though it is somewhat a sad topic I still feel a happy nature to the poem when I read it. I like the final 2 lines alot.
ditto
I liked that when I read it I felt as if I was on that stream that never stalls and yet I felt like I’d still be okay.
“If I have money, I have no time.” The theme of my life. I love this quirky and charming look at the stream that never stalls, Connie!
What About Love?
What do you mean when
you say enough is enough?
Is it only a thick branch
that can carry a burden
while the small twig
is so quick to snap?
Why must there be
a breaking point
and a last straw
to bring it on?
Why must every molehill
become a mountain?
Why should the actions
and decisions of others
determine your happiness?
What about acceptance?
Will you understand tolerance
and comprehend forgiveness?
Why is silence
allowed to replace
open and honest communication?
What about cooperation and compromise?
What about togetherness?
What about love?
By Michael Grove
Really tough questions, Michael!
Tough questions, but worth thinking about.
have faced more than one of them in my lifetime.
ONE MORE TIME
So many
times, she has relived
that moment;
so many
times she has said, “That’s enough!”
When will the pain end?
Oh, that last line — I can so relate!
Pain – may stay – but in time become less intence and someday managable.
Bye-Bye
She mired herself in the mud
of the mind, soaking up
depression like a sun bath.
Meeting me, a chronic depressive,
she savored steeping me
in her waters of woe.
Commiseration without
solution, unhealthy for both
of us. I began to notice
her phone calls were reserved
for ruminations about her life,
easily ignoring mine. I flicked
off the last morsel of mud,
after a failed suicide attempt
landed me in the hospital.
She called to discuss
the effect this had on her.
I washed, lost her number,
and sought help.
Wow, “… I washed, lost her number, and sought help.” !
wow,lots of reality in this one. I have… well, I once HAD a friend like this, lol. And everything you say here is true. “she called to discuss the effect this had on HER”…
Thanks, Jacqueline.
Good call Sara – sometimes a hard one to discern and even harder to make but ultimately? So much healthier for you …in my view
I’m living proof!
Good. Attagirl.
“soaking up depression like a sun bath.” So true. I know so many that suffer from this terrible affliction. You poignantly depicted one of its grimmer aspects. Beautiful words for a terrible experience. Nice job!
Thanks, Linda.
Prompt Swamped
I’m swamped in these prompts;
this race against time.
At the gate before breakfast,
I must write nine middle eastern
Ghazals about heaven and hell.
One furlong, one click,
they’re all at the post—
The jockeys—the bloggers—our poetic hosts,
They’re off to the races ‘fore quarter to nine—
Write eight Terza rima’s
and five French Sestinas.
Write about earth, the wind, and with fire,
(He’ll box all the winners before he retires.)
At noon, all ye poets, come write a Kyrielle
(French linguine made with soft mozzarella.)
We’re at the turn, just a quarter to go—
Write one renku, two renga
three rengi, four renkus,
a nonet, a tanka,
a rondeau (no rhyming,)
a paradelle, a villanelle (I think about trees)
five golden sonnets,
four ballads ‘bout salads,
three purple sijo’s,
two odes to your mother,
a glosa,
a huitain,
a haiku.
(No, two.)
I run to be first over some vague line,
round round I go riding finite time,
while one lonely novel waits under
cold covers for one minute of lovin’
from this crazed poet.
Enough is enough;
I’m stuffed—prompt swamped.
Tomorrow I’ll write that rondeau—
But maybe just one.
!! 🙂 !!!
ai yai yai — sooooo true and soooo funny … we are our own worst enemies once we get on this particularly addictive merry-go-round but it’s oh-so-much fun
oh, yeah, you betcha it’s fun otherwise we wouldn’t do it! ! !
Only a poet as clever as you, could so summarize what we poets all do. I love the form and clever rhyme about how we writers can never find time. You have tickled my poets fancy, Flynn.
Thank you so much. Now it’s off to the races (again!) hee hee.
jlynn, This is outstanding.
oh, I think I was just having too much fun with this one. thank you so much, purple!
That has to win my vote for best Enough poem! Laughing out, loud and long, I know exactly where you’re coming from.
Thank you so much, Viv in France!
Thank you so much, Viv in France!
Oh, I so relate to this! Very nicely done indeed! 😀
Not Another Remake
Movies without original ideas
pulled out of a dusty corner
of Hollywood’s dressing room –
smooth the wrinkles, dress it up,
wear it on the red carpet as if it’s
brand new, as if it doesn’t reek of
death warmed over.
So many of them, too!
So true! I have never seen one that matched, let alone beat, the original. Nicely said!
Maybe they need some writers to write new ones. ???
Cinquain: 2,4/6/8/2
Enough!
Love so denied
arid Hope now buried
too deep to recover the heart:
Beware!
Negative is Nauseous
You moan and complain from sun to sun,
Nothings right, fault with everyone.
Blessings abound if you would only look,
Your gripes abound, could fill a book.
Mercy, I cry, begone with the stuff,
No more rhetoric, enough is enough.
Stop it I say before I am totally deaf,
Soon you will have no audience left.
We should all read this poem every day. It is so easy to be gloomy and critical, but no more difficult to be positive and complementary. I love this Iris.
Thanks Linda. I am glad you liked it.
Iris
Perfet!
OK, perfect!
Oh Purple, I thought we had a new poetic form, “perfet.”After reading Jlynn’s litany of poetic forms, I thought maybe I had invented a new one. Ha ha Maybe it has 8 lines, aliteration in title, and last word has to rhyme with cleft. Hee, Hee.
Thanks for being generous with calling it perfect. I do not often have time to comment on poems on this sight or Poetic Asides, but I admire your poetry very much.
Iris
Thanks, Iris.
Love that title (and the poem too, of course)
Me too!
Thanks Viv and Henrietta. I love the way Walt has with titles so I am glad I pegged this one right.
Glad u enjoyed.
Iris
Good reminder, Iris. Sometimes I have to “enough” myself. (just verbed enough!)
Cannot edit but this should read, blessings around if you would only look. Typo causes two abounds in two lines. uh oh, I should have proofed.
I posted a poem here around 11:00AM, but can not find it here? 11;00AM 5/21/12
Marian Veverka
Hello Marian. Very strange, as it isn’t showing up in the spam filter, nor inadvertently posted in another area of the site. If it shows up somehow, we’ll grab it and post it for you. In the meantime, did you save it somewhere off-site?
Marie Elena
I had that happen during the seed prompt week!
Sorry folks, I’m in a silly mood, having just finished making the 2nd jester’s hat, the last piece of costume for our carneval.
Enough of this tomfoolery,
it’s all quite illusory
cease your daft cajolery
desist with your skulduggery
abstain from all this trickery
I’ll call out the constabulary.
stop all this buffoonery
laughter’s not compulsory
here’s Chambers’ dictionary
,find sensible vocabulary –
Enough, I say, enough.
ahahaha – loads of chuckles her viv – so clever!
Thanks for the early morning smiles, Viv! :)!
I had to look up skulduggery to know exactly what it meant. haha I am going to have to start using that word more often.
I can’t resist new words, specially multisyllabic ones.
The poem that gets lost is never the poem that was saved “Enough” might have been in the title, it fit the prompt, but it was one of those poems that you sort of make up as you go along It was a short poem, probably easy to duplicate. Thanks for looking.
Marianv
I’m sorry we missed out, Marian! If you get the inclination, please do try to duplicate and post.
Marie Elena
When More Than Enough is as Wearying as Anything Else
Yes, that’s our beautiful boy, read the small-print headline
The words a mother spoke as searchers recovered yet
Another body, another person gone missing over a week
In our lush and lovely river valley – not so lovely when
It becomes the jungle hiding your missing child, the one
Who has stopped taking his medication and wandered off
And there is a weariness that steals over me as surely
As a goose-down duvet being lowered and tucked in all around
More and more I wish to pull it over my head and not
Be aware of these small tragedies, these lost ones
Who seem to multiply more every spring, or is that just
The posters on the telephone poles, or just my imagination
Maybe it’s my own state of mind I’m most tired of
It could very well be this miasma of grey grief that’s settled
On me as if part of my makeup, found in my DNA actually
At least that is what I am beginning to suspect the longer
It clings to me with the tenacity of a leech and there seems
No way to dislodge it this time – no cutting it out, no medicating
It gone, no pretending it’s not there either – I’ve sure had
Enough of it – I can tell you that … more than enough
The lush river valley begins more and more to have an allure …
S.E.Ingraham©
“And there is a weariness that steals over me as surely
as a goose-down feather duvet . . .” Stunning lines, Sharon.
thanks Sara …
Some wonderful writing in this outpouring of depression. I hope it was cathartic.
it was – somewhat, viv …
Oh, Sharon… this hurts me.
and me Hen … sorry, but thanks
Your weary heart expresses with beauty what others might need help feeling within themselves.
thanks jlynn …
Heart-breaking and powerful; it hurts me, too.
thanks for commenting…
DISASTER AREA
(a shadorma)
pools of blue
are overflowing
drop by drop;
will it end?
will the floodgates ever close?
enough is enough!
2012-05-21
P. Wanken
I wonder…
I’m with Hen here … I wonder too …
Thank you, Hen and Sharon. ❤
I want to say – Yes, they will….
❤
Pingback: Disaster Area (a shadorma) « echoes from the silence
“Finished”
Accidentally
wrote the year
as 2016
and instantly fell
into a future
which felt nothing
like today.
These words,
carried in my head,
fell onto paper,
edited,
re-written,
scrubbed.
Finished.
And all of this
beautiful
excuse
making,
ended.
Oh! I want to let my imagination run away with this: “…as 2016 and instantly fell into a future…”!
A thousand dollars later
As summer approaches, you will decide
that the kitchen island is a tremendous eyesore,
and needs to be refinished. Accordingly, you will
drag it into the back yard, ready to strip the peeling
paint. While you are out there, you will notice
that the lawn is looking pretty long and you will
decide to mow the grass, except that the mower
no longer works. So you will go to Home Mart
to buy a mower. And since you are an ecologically-minded
soul you will choose an electric model this time,
which means buying a 100-foot power cord.
When you get home, you will realize that
you do not have a grounded power outlet
on the outside of the house and so you will
call an electrician to come and put one in so
you can mow the lawn. But he will be busy
until next week. And while you are standing at the
calendar in the kitchen talking to him, trying to
set up a date for the work to be done it will occur
to you that the kitchen walls are very dark
and could really do with repainting. So that by the
time you get off the phone with the electrician
you will have decided to return to Home Mart to
purchase bright new paint for the kitchen. Which is
all very well, except that once at Home Mart, you will
see a color swatch that looks perfect for the bathroom,
and before you know it you will be walking out of there
with enough paint for both rooms. Upon returning home
you will go to the basement to find your brushes and
rollers. The twenty minutes it takes you to locate these
items will convince you it is time for a good old
clean-out down there, and for the next day and a half
you will find yourself putting your painting aspirations
on hold while you move all the furniture around
and carry three truckloads of junk to the curb, some of
which will be immediately set upon by neighbors eager
to help with your mammoth recycling project. At some point
in this process, you will begin to realize that you are not
sleeping well, and that every sentence you say begins with
“Maybe if we just…” Your family will cease speaking to you.
The dog will retreat to her kennel. Somehow, you will not notice.
Twenty four hours later, you will be taking a shower when you
suddenly remember that at some point you had been intending to paint
the bathroom. You will launch into this project with a renewed sense
of purpose. However, even before the painter’s tape is in place,
you will be struck by the thought that you have never really liked
the large built-in cupboards behind the bathtub, with their deep drawers,
and so you will find a crowbar and set about that benighted cabinetry
like the villain of a second-rate slasher movie, hacking and ripping until
all that remains of the orderly drawer and door combo is a pile of splintered
wood, a handful of nails, and an unsightly hole in the wall. You will
feel a great sense of accomplishment, coupled with a nagging realization
that you don’t quite know what to do with the space you have just
opened, together with a sense of wied-eyed awe at the view of the basement
now afforded by the gap you have made in the sub-floor. Your wife will take
the kids and move to a hotel. The dog will remain in her kennel. Suddenly
unencumbered by family obligations or the need for personal hygiene
you will push yourself to new heights of self-expression, in fourteen
hours repainting the entire kitchen and the bathroom, leaving the house
smelling of fresh paint and self-satisfaction. Just as you are cleaning
your brushes, the electrician will arrive to put in the new power outlet.
You will pay him with thanks and go outside to mow the lawn, where you
will find your path blocked by a large wooden obstacle. You will note that
the kitchen island is still a tremendous eyesore and still needs to be refinished.
AAAAAHAHAHA!!! (I now know WHY it took me about 10 years to “fix-up our old, farmhouse fixer-upper”)! :D!!!
Hahaha, only ten years, Hen? We took twenty, never finished, and are renting it out.
this hits a little too close to home for the times when I’m omni-directional and a tad manic … (not now at all) – by the end I needed a nap … good poem
I loved reading this and got a great laugh.
…writing of reality. Great to have that 14 hours of go-go time.
I agree, time for the wife and kids to go on a vacation alone. 🙂
I’m tired and I didn’t do anything:)
!!!LOL!!!
Andrew, this is so so so so true. It’s an addiction. We do the same thing!
ANDREW! I WANT TO (READ “MUST”) SEE YOU PERFORM THIS POEM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
(Please, please, purty please?)
Marie Elena
No problem – just as soon as I get everything done around the house! 🙂
LOL! No fair! 😉
Pingback: Enough « my words are alive
Oh, how deliciously cathartic. I write a lot of pieces with this intention actually, it helps me release some of the frustration and find closure with people who wrong me.
Lonely With You
I want to hold your hand,
(You’re aloof and keep your hands to yourself.)
dance under the stars,
(You’d rather watch television)
run through dew besprinkled grass,
(or sleep – )
laugh until my side hurts –
(and you avoid all forms of communication)
with you.
(with me.)
(Poet’s note: completely fictional poem)
glad it’s fictional Michelle – I’m afraid there are a number of couples for whom it’s same old same old and that’s just sad … great poem
Yes.
Sometimes being lonely with someone is harder than being lonely without them. This captured that feeling well.
Lovely.
And mine, “By way of Apology: Faith” can be sen at the link below.
There’s Something Wrong with This Picture . . .
Clutter clings to every available surface,
A parasite sinking its teeth into home,
Draining joyful blood from daily flesh.
We work our paling fingers to the bone
To make our backbreaking loads heavier,
Gritting our teeth in plastic grimaces,
The weight forcing out the words,
Which come with breath’s price:
“Boy oh boy, this is the good life.”
😦 !
Whooo, Ya.
Dear Bully
Actions have consequences…
I’m a shadow from your past,
Faceless and forgotten,
But I remember you.
You turned that playground
Into your own private torture chamber,
Acid words thrown in the faces of the weaker,
Indelible scars time can never erase.
I was no threat to you.
I had no control over how I looked,
The neighborhood where I lived,
The money my family didn’t have.
Actions have consequences…
Do you even realize the havoc you caused?
Your voice echoed through my mind for years,
Leaving me damaged and vulnerable,
Easy prey for a much more vicious type of bully,
Whose brand of psychological terror
Made you seem like an amateur.
Actions have consequences…
I know the price I’ve paid for yours.
It would be so easy to hate you,
To wish you the kind of anguish
I’ve lived with all these years,
To continue the circle of cruelty,
But I won’t.
This ends now.
Actions have consequences…
I know I can sleep peacefully tonight.
What about you?
“… I was no threat to you…” If only a bully could understand this.
True, but if they could really understand it, chances are they would not be bullying.
Yes, the defense mechanism is turned waaay up on them, it seems.
This one brought up old feelings, raised the hackles on my back, made me want to hit something … sometimes it’s hard to know when you’re ever finished being angry about some injustices – if you ever are …
…This ends now…
Such an important statement and made with assurance.Wonderful statement.
Thanks, Marjory. I truly believe there comes a time when many people just have to stand up and say “It’s over.”
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Hope to return later to read & comment. For now, here’s my “drive-by” posting — this poem was inspired by two separate prompts:
1: Poetic Bloomings: Enough is Enough (Which is how I feel about this feud)
and
2: Poetic Asides: a Hairy poem (In this instance – a “Hairy Situation, Still Shedding”)
Grudges to Graves
Tale of old times: dissenting views, two
too stubborn for discourse, dialogue
sporting myopic opinions
disagreement sparks dispute
descends to squabble, bicker, brawl
word gauntlets thrown, seconds chosen,
family feud ensues, lingers, loiters
Albatross animosity remains
wounds won’t scar
blood still seeps
into eternity
* * *
Great word choice.
An eloquent revisiting of the “Hatfields and McCoys” or “Capulets and Montagues” scenario … will we never learn? Your words do justice to an age-old human condition with, as slockard says, great word choice.
Sad tale of so many families!
Enough Hovering
I am honored to be acknowledged
I am proud to know you care
but stop pestering me every minute
let me breath something besides
your stale, second-hand air.
I have heard that “boomerang babies” say these words, too.
The Cost of Education?
We didn’t pass the levy
school finances are really bad.
The fact you think it’s
our fault, makes me really mad.
The office is out of paper
no more copies to be made.
If we don’t run them off at home,
will my son pass seventh grade?
Families in our district
have to tighten up its true.
Did you think that this recession
would somehow pass by you?
You cut the needed programs
yet, you got your yearly raise.
My kids now have to pay to play
My head is in a daze.
From gifted to those with special needs
the cuts hit every side.
If you learned to stay within a budget
there’d be reason for some pride.
It might be somehow worth it
if cuts started at the top.
But that doesn’t seem to be the plan,
when will this overspending stop?
© KED 2012
Kelly, I hear you loud and clear. It seems that the ones who do not vote for a school levy are demonized sometimes, when the reality may be that the system does not spend wisely. It is easy for me to vote for the Maumee levy each time, because I see that the school system is a good one, and there does not appear to be frivolous spending happening. If that was not the case, I would not vote for it. A neighboring district’s levy keeps failing … with good reason. Good poem.
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