Why don't you try an antidepressant or a counselor? It took me 37 years to find the proper medication, and it is 180 degrees different: the negative thinking leaves, the physical problems, etc., etc....you know, if you are truly depressed, seek help. I wish I had pursued it more completely at your age. Don't waste your time and life, please, Anne
I misread your title and was somewhat disappointed, expecting something more randy.....I thought it was MORALITY is our handicap! lol Anne
My first words when I saw her, red and wrinkled, tiny yet fat, shocked by the sudden new world. "She's beautiful." Her best friend tells his mother, SO beautiful. I look at her again, through his eyes. Barely 10 years old, he sees her more clearly than I do. I have known her so well and so long, I can misplace her beauty. But, others don't. Her father tells me, too. He sees less of her,
"I love you as big as the stars AND the moon!" She held my finger to sleep til well into her tenth year. Then suddenly stopped. She slept in my bed for so long that I wondered if she'd ever sleep alone. Then suddenly stopped. Now, I wonder. What next, will begin, will stop? Still a child, but almost not. I see it in her, changing, as she becomes, becomes.
Intensity so strong brings a smile to my jaded face. A small warm face, small hot hands, gripping my face. Not even an inch from his. He HAD to know. At 6 In his mind nothing mattered more. At that moment. And he did seize it, literally, the moment, and me. How strange. Yet strangely sweet! The small boy, so intense. His moment.
Tell him. Life's too short to be namby-pamby. Good luck! Anne
All personal, all the time! I am the _clay pot_ composed of raw emotion - lol- Anne
What is the _this_ I would type? The name of the picture with its html tag?
Well, you see, GCJ, something that's been bothering me is that after we are dead, everyone throws away our stuff....at least most of it. And we leave no trace, it's like we weren't even here. But I have these things I know, I see, that ARE important....and I have found a way to share them, so that when I am dead, at the very least I'll have had the satisfaction of knowing that even when my stuff gets thrown into the nearest garbage heap, I'll have poisoned, or enlightened, a few minds. I think p
Thanks so much, GCJ....lol......as I said ONCE I was funny!!!!!! Anne
Again, VERY funny stuff. Love the assignments....you're Tyler Durden in some parallel universe? Anne
VERY funny, great writing!! I'm new here, I'll have to check out what else you have. I have poetry. Anne
I'm NOT funny, she tells me. Anymore, I might add. But she doesn't remember when she laughed with me. Not against me. Are we all so much our mothers that we must break them only to grow and be free? Someday, she'll remember, I AM funny. And we'll laugh, together again. But, not now. So, I'll hold my tongue and be as patient, as I can, now.
The misunderstandings lie flat underneath the cold ground. Harsh words buried and forgotten. Putting it all behind me, I turn to face the lost sun. There is no warmth now, but artificial heat. Edgy survival. Effexor and benzo die azapams. Artificial warmth, for now. Until I find that hidden sun. If it went down, surely it must rise again. Another day, another week, an
Thanks GCJ! I'm having a lot of fun writing these, too!
Well, thank you! Though I don't actually know what a bonus rating is yet, it sounds good! Thanks for commenting, I showed this one to my daughter (10 ) and she even liked it...a tough judge at 10, so that's saying something!
Even the cat Even the cat knows. The shortest route between two points is a straight line. Be it up on the shelf through a hole onto a dryer. Leaps and bounds. It makes much more sense, cat sense, to go straight to what you want. Silly human, going the long way round. Where is the sense in that?
1999 Time is relative not absolute. Some years really are longer than other years and some days as long as that year When everything changed. I try not to think of it. That's a lie. I DON'T think of it. Under hidden thickets made without any conscious thought, automatically. It's true though Thought of or not it still affects me. Affects life. <B
10 years old She flops silly on the snow. As he sets up the sled course, he has a plan. No doubt she will foil even his most careful strategies. He gestures, points, a small politician explaining the hows and whys. They go, quickly, quickly! Buddies, 10 years and counting. She's flopping again, silly, silly. He watches, the epitome of reason. And he smiles, appreciating what she <BR
Punch She could break him easily. But she goes gently allowing him upper hand. Most times. Once, smaller and less patient, she punched him. Square in the chest. She knocked him down with little effort but the force of her small, fierce temper. Now she rolls him over and over in the snow. The other time forgotten, only giggles now.
First, thank you Wisefawn for commenting on my poetry. I really appreciate it, it means a lot to me that someone else shares these and enjoys them (if enjoyment is the right word for some of the more painful ones). I would love to have a book of poetry someday, with my own accompanying photos, I do a lot of work in Photoshop with my digital photography. It's all a process, changing, growing, like life. It's been 20 years, almost, since I wrote poetry. Just a kid then, teens. What a lap
Thank you for commenting. I have just started writing again after almost 20 years.
Circling the victim The warm fire was my jumping off point. I stood near wondering if only I noticed, how near. I circled and moved in, slowly but surely for the kill. I knew what ways to turn interest toward me. But though he seemed perhaps normal, the boy was strange. I know strange, I was better equipped to handle the boy, than the man, though it was the man I circled, truly. Not ready,
Why should I try to find that street? Where nothing is and nothing will be. A residue of you. Proof you still exist, these years later. In my mind you don't, except as you were the last time I saw you. Or maybe the last before that. A better time Or a worse, really. The children play. Life goes on as if, as if nothing ever happened. Then again, it IS true. Nothing ever h
years and days i courted death though it never had time for me times it flirted hot sweet breath quiet next to my ear singing a song that wasn't in tune not what i'd thought at all i thought of peace escape from worries doubts and lonely days but death had little care for me and wanted to take me away away from the possible to be saved by hope on some day far from here <BR
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