Poetry prompts created by the poets. If you want to be part of our group, just post a poem based on the prompt and comment on other people's poems.
Current rotation: Tad, Linda, Tasha, Vic...
Search This Blog
Sunday, October 2, 2016
What makes you you
Prompt from Linda:
What made you you? What events in your life made you the person that you are today? Is it something you tell everyone about or is it a personal and secretive experience?
I don't know that I have a poem in me this week, and the prompt is hard. So just in case, here's an old poem that fits the bill.
SMALL VICTORIES a rondeau
My father’s fear was that I might in his bitter loathings take delight. Life was clutched, conform to command, my mind inflicted, his demands. My rights relinquished, his rules right, echo his will, subdue my sight, outward comply but inward fight, erect a fortress to withstand my father’s fear.
Crack his power, unfrock his fright, know myself, in or out of spite. He could not, would not understand deep, dark, inside, I wear the brand, my father’s child, though I am quite my father’s fear.
I really love this poem. It is very deep and inside your mind and psyche... "..crack his power, unfrock his fright..." things I could have written myself...things I felt...powerful
I think I made me who I am because of how and what I chose when choices were; the way I acted when presented with my opportunities to act and be. I am now who I am because I took The paths I followed, and the stepping stones I polished out of all my stumbling blocks. I can look back and see the paths divide Where I might be another sort of me, Better or worse I simply cannot tell I only know I am just who I am Because I chose myself and made me me.
I totally understand and feel I did the same. I made me who I am. I like the line "I can look back and see the paths divide where I might be another sort of me..." Yes, I also see those paths. You chose your paths well Tasha.
I was a bad little child Wild as they come I played in the creek Polio water! My parents told their daughter, You’ll be crippled for life Maybe die, if you get wet! You wanna bet? I splash in it all summer Every day, I’d play I was five, I’m still alive I ran away from home California bound I liked the way it sound When they found me down town I was headed west I had a companion A little boy, the police said I was a kidnapper and I could go to jail They released me to my parent’s care The beating I got on my butt made the neighbors stare I saw the devil twice When I was seven It wasn’t heaven I peed my pants I was so scared No one cared No one noticed My urine soaked socks Then one day I got breasts And blood in my bed …a woman now my father said We better watch her closer now Everything was different somehow Boys tried to feel my aching newness I socked them in the throat and kicked them In their hardness Then the vague laws of the mating game Showed their naughty faces Oh, How I loved to love Of course it was infatuation Heat colored by jewels, loves imitation Going steady I wasn’t ready Three rings I carried in my purse To juggle around And giggle when I made a mistake I had no guilt But they would wilt with anguish All squeamish that I could be so cruel My childhood was colorful There were other things that made me, me Poetry, Sobibor, art and violin, the assassination Of a great president, The death of a grandma The death of a sister Gymnastics and insanity But one thing I will say I wouldn’t have had it any other way I loved all the things that made me, ME
I don't know that I have a poem in me this week, and the prompt is hard. So just in case, here's an old poem that fits the bill.
ReplyDeleteSMALL VICTORIES
a rondeau
My father’s fear was that I might
in his bitter loathings take delight.
Life was clutched, conform to command,
my mind inflicted, his demands.
My rights relinquished, his rules right,
echo his will, subdue my sight,
outward comply but inward fight,
erect a fortress to withstand
my father’s fear.
Crack his power, unfrock his fright,
know myself, in or out of spite.
He could not, would not understand
deep, dark, inside, I wear the brand,
my father’s child, though I am quite
my father’s fear.
I really love this poem. It is very deep and inside your mind and psyche... "..crack his power, unfrock his fright..." things I could have written myself...things I felt...powerful
DeleteHard-hitting.
ReplyDeleteWhat made me who I am?
ReplyDeleteI think I made me who I am because
of how and what I chose when choices were;
the way I acted when presented with
my opportunities to act and be.
I am now who I am because I took
The paths I followed, and the stepping stones
I polished out of all my stumbling blocks.
I can look back and see the paths divide
Where I might be another sort of me,
Better or worse I simply cannot tell
I only know I am just who I am
Because I chose myself and made me me.
I totally understand and feel I did the same. I made me who I am. I like the line "I can look back and see the paths divide where I might be another sort of me..." Yes, I also see those paths. You chose your paths well Tasha.
DeleteI was a bad little child
ReplyDeleteWild as they come
I played in the creek
Polio water!
My parents told their daughter,
You’ll be crippled for life
Maybe die, if you get wet!
You wanna bet?
I splash in it all summer
Every day, I’d play
I was five, I’m still alive
I ran away from home
California bound
I liked the way it sound
When they found me down town
I was headed west
I had a companion
A little boy, the police said I was a kidnapper and I could go to jail
They released me to my parent’s care
The beating I got on my butt made the neighbors stare
I saw the devil twice
When I was seven
It wasn’t heaven
I peed my pants
I was so scared
No one cared
No one noticed
My urine soaked socks
Then one day I got breasts
And blood in my bed
…a woman now my father said
We better watch her closer now
Everything was different somehow
Boys tried to feel my aching newness
I socked them in the throat and kicked them
In their hardness
Then the vague laws of the mating game
Showed their naughty faces
Oh, How I loved to love
Of course it was infatuation
Heat colored by jewels, loves imitation
Going steady
I wasn’t ready
Three rings I carried in my purse
To juggle around
And giggle when I made a mistake
I had no guilt
But they would wilt with anguish
All squeamish that I could be so cruel
My childhood was colorful
There were other things that made me, me
Poetry, Sobibor, art and violin, the assassination
Of a great president,
The death of a grandma
The death of a sister
Gymnastics and insanity
But one thing I will say
I wouldn’t have had it any other way
I loved all the things that made me, ME
Oh what a fun ride you wrote for us. Thanks!!!
Delete