VSSPoem, Week 4

September 30th

A family gene

that jumped over her
#Charm
She couldn’t

Not with a filthy mouth

or dirty mind

Honesty in every word
She couldn’t

Not with a fearful heart

or dark soul

Her pain wishing to spill
Her family

#Charmed

Friends from foe

Neighbour

Stranger
But not her.

 

October 1st

My #identity is pasted on plastic cards

With a name

My height

My birth date

My address

But I am more

than a shitty picture

and basic details.

 

I have a voice

A face under my mask

 

Paper and Plastic

don’t define me.

 

October 2nd

#Trust is another thing

that rusts.

Breaks like a chain.

Nobody’s mistake.

 

October 3rd

This sword is sharp

Meant to cut

Render flesh

Into ribbons

Draw blood

With a jab

 

It’s thin

Like my #patience

Worn down

By quick words

And quicker stabs

 

Perhaps it’s best

I wield a wooden weapon

 

At least

Until I’ve proven

My #patience is stronger

My lips sealed

 

October 4th

Like a sun inside

The light fades

And #dims to darkness

Hides behind frowns

Forgets how

To even smile

She tries to rekindle

Reignite the flame

But the wick remains

Unburnt

The lighter flashes

To life yet drains away

And she remains

#dimmed

Imaginary Whims

Wish the image in my mind

Could be put on paper

Pristine, crisp

or

Abstract, colourful.

 

Sometimes I succeed with words

But not with pen, pencil, paint

On Canvas

or Paper.

 

The image in my mind

mocks me, taunts me.

It wants out

It wants more

 

But I cannot fulfill its imaginary whims.

And it hurts my soul.

Pen and Paper

A pale face stares back,
Greenish blue eyes,
Pierce a wanderer’s soul,
From a reflective pool.
‘Is the writing any good?
‘Am I living my dream?’
‘No’, the quiet voice answers,
As a tear glides gently down
A fair freckled cheek.
Anger swells in the woman
Before the soul in the mirror.
‘I will be one day’
She says out loud,
Squaring off against her fears.
Turning her back to the world
She walks away.
Fingers tightly gripping
Pen and Paper.
Words scrawled on pages,
Day after Day,
For ages upon ages.
The woman returns to the mirror
The calm pond, clear,
Shows her soul’s darkest self.
No words need to leave her lips
The quiet voice is stronger now,
‘It is time.
‘Go show the World,
The Magic you can make.’
With a silent nod
The woman walks away once more.
Pride fills her step,
And soon
Her words will reach once deaf ears.