She drove away from the pizza place
joyful in the knowledge that she had been set free.
No dark cloud appeared.
She realized she was humming along,
tapping her foot to the beat.
As she waited for her pizza to go,
Bad Company played on the radio.
One day, she stopped to get a pizza
on her way home from work.
She felt a weight lifted and joy return.
When she awoke, she knelt and prayed
for the strength to forgive.
One night she dreamed of forgiveness
and knew it was a message from God.
She pondered taking her own life
because she thought she was forever broken.
She spent years in darkness and anger.
She was never the same; whenever she heard Bad Company
a dark cloud would descend upon her.
Afterwards, he drove her home
and left her broken upon her doorstep.
Bad Company played on the radio.
He assaulted her in the front seat of his Lincoln.
He asked if she wanted to go to a party
and she said yes because he seemed nice.
The NaPoWriMo prompt today is to write a story in reverse. I couldn’t help but turn each line of this semi-autobiographical story into a verse.
If all you knew of me was my poetry then what would you see?
If we had never met would my words alone let you understand my regret?
And would that be all you’d see, would I seem to you sad and small behind my word wall?
Do I reveal my joy in the verse that I employ or do you find my words simply annoy?
If you knew me in the flesh and personally would you be surprised by my poetry?
My word wall and pen keep you out or let you in depending on the mood I’m in.
Yet always there’s my God, intertwined, some think it odd, without Him I’m a fraud.
But there’s so much more to me that I’ll never let you see despite your solemn plea.
Decided to write a second poem for today, perhaps because I’m a little sad that NaPoWriMo2016 is coming to an end soon. This is my take on long-line poetry.
My road began bright and cheery
Birds sang sweet, lovely flowers bloomed
It would always be I assumed
Then it became dark and dreary
With each step I grew more weary
When I tried to walk all alone
Plagued by despair of being known
Oh grace, you called me back to you
Once again the skies are deep blue
Seeds of hope and forgiveness sown
Today’s poem is a décima for dVerse Poets Pub Meeting the Bar today. (I cheated and went to Bjorn’s blog to see what the prompt was going to be before it is live at dVerse in my time zone). I’ll be linking at dVerse at noon PST. Head over there this afternoon to see what other décimas the pub folks have to offer.
This is also my Day 21 post for NaPoWriMo.
My story is not unique
but it’s uniquely mine
My experience is universal
yet my own
People say, “me, too!”
But how can they know
They weren’t there
My pain is not theirs
What others have been through
mirrors my ordeals
with a twist
For the Quadrille prompt at dVerse Poets Pub today Grace wants us to use the word “twist” in a quadrille of exactly 44 words, no more, no less. I wrote all but the last stanza of this last night with the hopes I could work in the given word and make it a quadrille. Head on over the dVerse and check out some of the other twisted quadrilles the pub patrons have to offer today.
Filed under Faith, Life, Poetry
Yesterday, Toni at Kanzen Sakura commented thanking me for writing two haibuns. I replied that I’d only written one. Apparently that’s because the second one was still in the works. So I’m posting this second haibun now for Haibun Monday at dVerse Poets Pub.
Working on my memoir, giving in to the compulsion to communicate my story to whoever might need to read it, I decided I would have more success in actually getting the words on the page if I hand wrote. There is something about typing that makes me feel like it has to be perfect the first time, but handwriting builds in an automatic rewrite when I later type it up. So I rummage through my cloth basket of blank journals for just the right one. [This takes some time because there are probably 20 or more journals in that basket, evidence of another compulsion]. I find a 150-page spiral bound notebook with only 10 pages used up and decide that’s perfect. I peruse what’s been written and come across these words, written 18 ½ years ago:
It takes courage to write. Courage is not the same as fearlessness. Rather, courage is writing in spite of fear.
Just been reading “The Courage to Write” by Ralph Keyes. It got me thinking about writing a book about the effect being raped at the age of 14, while still a virgin, had on my life—the teen years, college, marriage, sex, life, thoughts, depression [although genetics had something to do with this as well].
I must be crazy. I can’t write such a book. Or rather I can, in that I’m sure I have enough material and could actually write it, but would I ever be willing to let anyone read it?
Crazy indeed. Yet here I am, almost two decades later, still compelled to write that book. Only now the story is complete. There is more than just the pain and suffering of trauma to tell; there is also the story of healing and redemption. Now there is courage.
Hidden on journal pages
Die and are reborn
My façade hides
pain in my body,
in my heart, in my soul
I smile broadly,
laugh out loud,
resort to sarcastic wit
. . . but sometimes I cry
The Meeting the Bar prompt at dVerse Poets Pub yesterday was to write a Sevenling. Since I wanted to write a Tritina yesterday I decided to save this Sevenling for today’s daily NaPoWriMo post.
January is the cruelest month
despite it’s shimmer of hope
It’s when cancer took you
I was twenty-three
Hadn’t yet made amends
for the pain I caused you
Still drowning in my own
Your death only added
to the shame
of not measuring up
This quadrille is doing double duty today. It includes the dVerse Poets Pub word prompt from Victoria and offers my thoughts on the cruelest month for the NaPoWriMo prompt.
The wafting scent of petrichor
Will remind me forevermore
Of streets lined with eucalyptus
Where my friends and I played and thus
Those were the days of fun and cheer
Memories that I hold so dear
Before, before the terror came
And life was no longer a game
Oh take me back sweet summer rain
To when scraped knees were my worst pain
Bicycle rides on dusty roads
Catching pollywogs, snakes, and toads
Our little dog would bark and scratch
While we hid in the garden patch
Mom had told us Go pull some weeds
Why are they here—we planted seeds
Weeds often grow among the tares
Some people say God never cares
There was a time that I agreed
I believed He forgot my need
He allowed pain to enter in
My memories tainted by sin
Engulfing me in endless torment
And yet He also left this scent
A reminder of hope and peace
Assurance pain one day will cease
Flooding my mind with memories
Of joyful times I’ve been at ease
Life’s a balance of rain and sun
An inkling that when each day’s done
I’m one day closer to the truth
Pain tried to pilfer in my youth
The truth that I am beloved
My future’s not something to dread
My memories aren’t who I am
I belong to God’s perfect Lamb
Just below the surface
Not buried all that deep
Are memories once forgotten
Now remembered so I weep
Though I know they’re past
Each painful memory
Leaves my poor soul downcast
Engulfed in reverie
My only source of hope
Is knowing God’s compassion
With His love I can cope
Remembering His passion
He knows the pain I’ve endured
That surfaces out of the blue
Grace and comfort He’s assured
And abundant life anew
I have faith enough to believe that God can heal
But do I have enough to trust if He does not
I believe enough to know that faith is real
But do I know enough to test what I am taught
I trust enough to feel the Spirit’s seal
But do I perceive enough His deepest thought
I have faith enough
to believe that God can heal
But do I have enough
to trust if He does not
What if this sickness
forever does endure
Will I succumb to hopelessness
or claim a promise sure
I trust that God can take away
every single ounce of pain
But do I trust His answer
as His provident domain
Without this lingering wound
where would my compassion be
I must have faith enough to trust
what only God can see
Sharing for dVerse Poets Pub Open Link Night. Two poems with the same first stanza but different line breaks and a slightly different focus. Also sharing at A Dash of Sunny‘s Prompt Night, which I just discovered yesterday.