poetry is my ‘thing’

I know I haven’t shared that much of my writing, but I thought today would be a good day to share some of the pieces that I am most proud of.  I’ve always enjoyed writing poetry, and it is my favorite type of writing to do! Please enjoy, and hopefully these will inspire you/ provoke a thought.

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Abuse is Your Party Trick

Breathe whispers down my throat.

Trail your fingers up my spine.

Grasp at my insecurities like gold,

Just because you think I’m yours.

 

Claim me as your broken dolly,

The one you need to keep safe.

Growl at the passersby viciously,

While holding my limp form.

 

Don’t you see what you’re doing?

Before I was filled with life,

But now I try to survive from you.

I can’t act perfect any more.

 

You call it protective, honey,

But I call it control issues.

You call me delusional,

But I call it gas-lighting.

 

I am done.

 

Done with toxic waste

that you cover up in 

false smiles,

gifts,

and compliments.

 What’s That in the Windex?                                                                                                        

All over America women are cleaning homes.             

It’s apartments in New York; condos                                                                            

in California; cabins in Alaska.                                                                                            

All over America women are making messes they’re                                                            

supposed to be cleaning up with brooms;                                                                            

sweeping away at the floors with glee.                                                                              

Anger fumes in her brain, confined but spewing out                                                        

in squirts of blue Windex.                                                                                                    

Uncleansed despair wipes like a dust rag                                                                         

from the laundry bin against the back of her eyes.                                                                

If she wants to clean up anything, it’s                                                                                 

her husband’s vile mentality.                                                                                            

If she wants to sweep up anything it’s his                                                                             

pitiful attitude towards her every day.                                                                                      

Her life is supposed to be polished;                                                                                        

it’s meant to shine.                                                                                                                   

Look, she says, once I was your welcome mat

that you could walk all over, but now 

I have reconsidered my role.

It’s not incompetence darling, 

it’s war.

Rainbow Baby

Your eyes are dull blue,

crows feet kissing the corners.

My eyes are blue too,

looking at you with wonder.

You didn’t think I would

be here with you today.

Here in your arms crying,

after you did all the work.

Saying I was your rainbow,

as you lulled me to sleep.

What is this love?

To be pressed against your

chest beating with life—

something you decided

to share with me.

Only a momma’s heart

could produce this

pure connection.

 

I hope you have enjoyed reading some of my poetry. Poetry was the first thing that I really started writing. I started off writing love poems. In fact, back then I was really into rhyming poems. It was much different than the poetry I write now. Thanks for reading!

-Maple 🙂