I only wonder about "Standard alien." I think if I were abducted, i wouldn't be quite so blase --something more like My god, they really do look like that.
This poem is fantastic!!! I read it three times to myself and once aloud and still loved reading it another time!!! I don't care why you used this topic, it is a great one and I am going to write two poems for it because I wrote this one for last weeks and didn't use it because I published two and didn't want to be a space hog.
Thank you everyone for your replies. I have not had time to comment on everyone's poems, but I WILL later tonight or tomorrow, I promise. Anindya, would you like to do the next prompt on Sunday? We are about to cycle around to start the list again.
as usual an awesome and powerful poem. yes, those machines do look like aliens. i would comment on them at the rehab center. especially the one that wrapped around me and stood me up before I was able to stand on my own. you captured it quite well. i especialy like that last line!
Three women meet and tell each other their stories. They are amazed at the similarities. Each is in her twenties, skinny, with bones for hips; each has sunken eyes, hair spiky on top, wispy down her neck. Each wears a stud in her navel, and all three navels are visible, below ratty T-shirts, above the frayed waistbands of blue jeans.
Each has, above her jutting left pelvic bone, a discoloration. Each, in turn, tugs down on a belt loop, till it shows purple, the shape of an archipelago, more like a birthmark than a bruise, but each confesses the discoloration is recent.
To get to the meat of it, each of these women has had sex with aliens. Apparently they are the aliens' type, though they distrust each other, and would acknowledge no likeness.
Each wonders if the others are holding back secrets. There should be more, each thinks, than this purple spot and a burning, similar to a yeast infection except for the pulsing, and a faint hum— a guy sitting hear them, staring into his beer, thinks he hears a chromatic chord, rising and falling, though where it comes from, he would not hazard a guess.
fun poem...very imaginative...almost real. I wish you would have described the aliens somehow. The women were the aliens type so they must have been humanistic. At least this is what I imagine from the poem. They could have been purple...since they left that purple mark...I enjoyed reading this poem. It left my imagination going wild!!!!
We were parked at Presque Isle one night The Beatles were singing "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" The UFO came out of the sky and hovered We were afraid it was going to take us away
The Beatles were singing "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" Now when I hear it I remember the UFO We were afraid it was going to take us away We were only teenagers and didn't know what to think
Now when I hear it I remember the UFO We told people and they wouldn't believe us We were only teenagers and didn't know what to think We were scared and excited and filled with emotion
We told people and they wouldn't believe us They laughed and they scoffed and called us fools We were scared and excited and filled with emotion And the Beatles were singing, I Wanna Hold Your Hand
They laughed and they scoffed and called us fools But, I know what I saw as it hovered there And the Beatles were singing, I wanna Hold Your Hand When I hear the song now I remember the UFO
But, I know what I saw as it hovered there The UFO came out of the sky and hovered When I hear the song now I remember the UFO We were parked at Presque isle one night.
This is a true story. It happened to my first husband and I while we were watching the sunset. The UFO was round and bright and hovered over us so, we got out of there with a quickness!!!
i remember you telling me about this when you got home from that date with Rich after all these years it is stll fresh but you and Rich weren't watching the sunset when you saw this... he he he
Linda, I can just imagine how frightened you two were all alone by the beach and along comes the UFO. I would have been gone within minutes if it had happened to me. Well written poem.
This also is a true story and since it deals with aliens I thought it was appropriate that I publish it this week.
Labor Camp
We worked farm labor lived in a labor camp we didn't know how many illegal aliens lived there with us until one day...
The Border Patrol showed up! at least 10 men and women disappeared out the windows some didn't get away
They pounded on our door at 6 am My husband cussed them and cursed them while we grabbed our pants, quickly
"Social Security card and photo ID" the uniform demanded "Can't you tell I'm American by the way I cuss?" stated my husband as he handed over his ID "The woman, too" they shouted. "I'm not an alien" "We want paper, you look Mexican to me!"
Begrudgingly, I handed over my ID. The girl in the next small room was crying the walls were paper thin we could hear them roughing up her man
"I was going to marry him and make him legal", she blubbered "Too late now", the uniform said as he pushed and shoved the illegal alien and crammed him into the already full van.
I always wonder what they would have done to us if we hadn't carried ID. But we learned to carry our Social Security cards because if you go to any city and go to the police station and show them your ID they will give you a dollar to get by on until you can get to another place that has work. It was very scary times traveling on a shoestring but somehow we made it. We lived in many apple labor camps and saw many things going on that most people don't even know about.
I liked the first one, but this one gives me chills. It's all powerful, but the ending is so powerful. I'm glad you're getting away from the pantoum a little. Any form can start to be a trap.
Linda, I remember that day very well. We were pretty cocky but, we were probably 2 out of 10 actual legal workers. You did a good job describing that day.
Yes it's brewed with a casual sense of flavor Having a potential to make one sit and ponder And wander into the dungeons of delight and dreams Carving out a subway, through the raging streams That brooded like a muser high up in a dawn Making me sound sleepy, plotting long strong yawn
Yet the sense of fallacy that rumbles up my life I often feel alienated from this world which is wild Since loneliness feeds me the verses that I scream and cry To the holy madness the lives, breed and fly Bursting out of closet to tame the naughty noise People feign to act sober, mature and poised But I fail to heed those advises of old I am just a fawn who has many tales to roll Up from my sleeves made of magic baked beans Rustling like the falcon draped in smell of achene That's calls up the nature to confess and confront Of the Alien me that faces life upfront Unlike the many losers hiding in capes of fake I proudly weld like my life is at stake Since creators are dreamers unlike how the world doubts When I say I am a writer, they make silly pouts Yet as I walk to my jaggery of joy I feel to be at peace and no one to strip and toy With the thoughts that dance along untamed and unbowed I am just a writer to makes curses, promises and vows
Very powerful poem. You put a lot of grave reality in this poem. In the migrant camps you can buy anything including children and drugs. One can gamble away their whole check and get a loan from "bossman" who will then start a tab and soon there is no money coming in for the worker...Mexican camps are the worst. They cut each other and a woman has to have a protector or she will be raped. Your poem tells a lot of truth and not many people get to see that side of illegals. You have turned on the lights to a lot of truth.
I am a common man who seeks to live and laugh Forgetting the chains of harshness, poverty and love That fails to bind and charm me with its musing spell of lust And make me vow parodies of Promises and trust I am just an Atheist who believes there is God In every being that helps me or seeks help in accord Either way I tend to feel a lump of something new A yes, or a no or something thoroughly askew
The Autumn's passion and rain lives in dual piece of space The mornings being blissful, sewing evenings of tragic trails The mellows and mushrooms that Winter's promise grow Shall perish in the mountains post every dew of hope That breeds in my life in a maze of lies I chase The Eternal sunshine croaks in sadist’s sordid gaze
At times I would break, through this veil of obvious dreams And yet being a common man, I cannot even scream My grudges and sorrows to the Almighty God Since I say I am an Atheist, the men shall snub me Fraud I don't give a damn, since I am an ordinary fool My purpose seems to perish in a garden made of rules
Eons away in her own ways my Princess sleeps tonight Let tomorrow dispatch troops to drive away her frights
The obscurus that blooms in the glamorous shards of gloom Let it drown in happiness in her world of flying brooms As she evolves to a woman to manoeuvre the remarkable coup Spreading the conspicuous charm, breaking the curse of loop Where lives a common man breathing all foolish wish Fetter away this world into the realm of ceaseless bliss.
I read this aloud and the words flow like a river softly, gently on a calm day. The imagery left me with pictures in my mind of you and your life. I also say, WOW!!!
When love and respect are not enough and we behold the Lord with fluff and stuff We welcome those whose beliefs are different Taken whole like medicine we vent and the soul like magic becomes whole again
We think about God and Heaven then and do not fear for hell or sin we do not lust for alcohol and gin nor women in their frenzied pretense We take our lives one step at a time and give our love to you in rhyme
Giving life and happiness is what we do with great finesse We find ourselves among like kind and only wish to see your mind
Your soul is whole and blessed and sweet your poetry a scholarly feat We know that life can be so hard But you my friend are a gifted bard
Bonnie, this is a very sensational poem. The government treats the illegal aliens better than the veterans of our wars. They get housing and food stamps as well as a chance at becoming legal.
I wasn't good at sports. I couldn't run fast. I often missed the ball whether batting or fielding.
I was teased endlessly, taunted..
The square dances were like nightmares. I got red in the face and confused. I'd go left when I was supposed to go right.
I was big, and clumsy for my age.
They sang: "I don't want her you can have her she's too fat for me, she's too fat for me, she's too fat for me…"
My life was different; I didn't fit in.
Everyone in my class knew the names of the baseball teams the football teams, the basketball teams, and they got excited when it was time for the world series.
I was a stranger in their world.
I read books and had adventures In my mind, I lived in a world of my own,
What a sad poem. and you're right it fits right in with the prompt in a different way. I can almost relate because I was very very little when I was in grade school. (3' at 8 years old) so playing some of those games were pure torture. I also lived a lot of my life in books. I hated volley ball, basketball, I always got hurt somehow. I got Linda Pinda she so skinny. Stand her beside a stop sign and she disappears. At least I had my sister Bonnie. Her and I were a team unto ourselves. This is a well written poem. I enjoy reading it aloud to Paul.
Thank you very much, yes it is a sad poem and my time in grade school was sad, as was much of my early life though not in bad way compared with so many. I am happy it is over and my later years have been much happier and more fun.
Very sad poem Tasha. I was the fat boy. But, I played tuba so I had something important to do. I didn't have to join in the reindeer games. I liked the way your poem flowed when read aloud.
When lingual skills fail to match its buzzing steps Like the stubborn desires of a frail dished soul Tampering with the tingling raw of Comic Sans A being stands quietly at a constant state of freak.
Melodramatic musicals are taken in a single shot Without the machinist's crucial touch or verve. Cautiously sustaining within its belly an Outsider That's how time chefs in cities made of silt.
The saga of a delude are unwillingly forged In the frames construed long and wide Stripping one naked in the swallowed parody Developing a cult, lauded as a tragic tale.
The despair of screed seeps slowly undermine The preludes predicted in a shallow verity Tinsels are twanged ensiled in hollow hopes Disdained by a sham hanging down an untied sling.
Very interesting...it seems as though it is a "rant" but I am not sure. I loved the last line. You use the English language very well...but, some of it I don't understand. Like "the despair of screed seeps slowly undermine..." What exactly did you mean there? I am curious as my sister Victoria was. Do you have the ability to speak many languages? Do you have a lot of education under your hat? Thank you for sharing so much of your beautiful poetry.
The manner in way I wrote this poem was like a story. The first when summarised talk about the problems faced due to language barrier when the person goes abroad to converse and communicate and makes one feel like a freak. The second para actually refers to as life being as boring as a musical (musicals are great but at times reflects monotone, which I was referring to) and yes all the words are selected with care and they do interpret a lot of depth. For example melodramatic musicals, refers to the chaos that characters undergo during a musical in rapidity and this lingering madness is what makes one think he or she is freak. In theatre, a machinist's job is nothing huge but important, to ensure everything is flowing fine. And it's just a summary. :) I can go on and on about this :D The third para intricately binds to the second and steps down as this outsider (alien) starts to lose everything and his life becomes a parody at that time and later on people consider it as a cult tragedy, that's perhaps the most hard hitting truth of any life. The fourth para is connected to the third, and talks about despair being finally screeded (cemented) to one's life. Again I chose the term screed to reflect long tedious speeches that friend shower to uplift one's spirit but in reality has no effect, slowly undermines the fact that a beginning was once predicted in the first place when this alien (outsider) has took off his/her journey filled to hold on to his morals and believes and nothing that entire castle of principles is quietly ebbing. Soon the outsider is losing his constant grab to reality and becoming more artificial (plastic or tinsels) and all these experiences are destroying every hope he or she has for carving a better world because (refer to the first para) he made his choice to be an outsider and now he has alienated from he was. He has no more respect left and he just hangs like a puppet which is not held by anyone still handing (and I chose the word hanging to refer to the fact in harsh reality at times people (personalities do choke getting engulfed by this momentous transformation that he/she never wanted in the first place. :/
The final para is more of a commentary of mine on the entire idea of communist's belief and
History repeats itself, first as tragedy, second as farce. Read more at: https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/k/karlmarx382655.html
And it referred to marx's statement :) And then if u think about the reason this outsider took the leap was to change the world but now he himself is a dictator (referring to Animal farm or even the US's/India's current government.
And final line is my understanding of everything that the world sees, is simply a scripted lie and truth and lie becomes synonyms.
WOW!!!! UM...Thank you Anindya...I understand you better now and I understand screed!! you did not rant and I am sorry if I made you feel that you did.
Radiation Treatment Diary
ReplyDeletea 5/4 poem
Day six. Suddenly
a new alien, large
tan square with green
laser line
that cuts its center.
Is that a mouth? Or eyes?
It starts clicking.
I take it
to be their language.
The standard alien
with its round head,
green crosshair
eye scans, surrounds my
body. Hums, whirrs, buzzes
as my arms lay
encased in
a plastic mold made
especially for me.
A circular
rack hangs molds
like dry cleaning bags
waiting to be picked up.
I wonder how
many more
have been abducted.
Unexpected poetry topic and insight into the process. Difficult life experience but a fabulous poem!
DeleteI only wonder about "Standard alien." I think if I were abducted, i wouldn't be quite so blase --something more like My god, they really do look like that.
DeleteThis poem is fantastic!!! I read it three times to myself and once aloud and still loved reading it another time!!! I don't care why you used this topic, it is a great one and I am going to write two poems for it because I wrote this one for last weeks and didn't use it because I published two and didn't want to be a space hog.
DeleteI enjoyed this poem very much. Linda read it outloud to me and it flowed nicely. The last three lines were pretty scary, Victoria.
DeleteWow! Powerful poem! Fascinating take on the experience as well. Woo hoo!
Deletehahaha.. Funny poem . I saw the subtle humour with the words :D
DeleteThank you everyone for your replies. I have not had time to comment on everyone's poems, but I WILL later tonight or tomorrow, I promise. Anindya, would you like to do the next prompt on Sunday? We are about to cycle around to start the list again.
DeleteTad, I mean the alien that is there very day. Maybe "daily alien"? Any other ideas?
Deleteas usual an awesome and powerful poem. yes, those machines do look like aliens. i would comment on them at the rehab center. especially the one that wrapped around me and stood me up before I was able to stand on my own. you captured it quite well. i especialy like that last line!
ReplyDeleteTHREE WOMEN
ReplyDeleteThree women meet and tell each other their stories.
They are amazed at the similarities. Each is in her twenties,
skinny, with bones for hips; each has sunken eyes,
hair spiky on top, wispy down her neck.
Each wears a stud in her navel, and all three
navels are visible, below ratty T-shirts, above
the frayed waistbands of blue jeans.
Each has, above her jutting left pelvic bone,
a discoloration. Each, in turn, tugs down on
a belt loop, till it shows purple, the shape of
an archipelago, more like a birthmark
than a bruise, but each confesses
the discoloration is recent.
To get to the meat of it, each
of these women has had sex with aliens.
Apparently they are the aliens' type,
though they distrust each other, and would acknowledge no likeness.
Each wonders if the others are holding back secrets.
There should be more, each thinks, than this purple spot
and a burning, similar to a yeast infection
except for the pulsing, and a faint hum—
a guy sitting hear them, staring into his beer, thinks
he hears a chromatic chord, rising and falling,
though where it comes from, he would not hazard a guess.
fun poem...very imaginative...almost real. I wish you would have described the aliens somehow. The women were the aliens type so they must have been humanistic. At least this is what I imagine from the poem. They could have been purple...since they left that purple mark...I enjoyed reading this poem. It left my imagination going wild!!!!
Deletechilling! the last line gave me goose bumps!
DeleteLinda. A good point. But in the scene as it's happening, the aliens aren't there. Maybe I need to write a companion piece.
DeleteTad, like Bonnie, the last line gave me goose bumps. I enjoyed reading it very much.
DeleteOOOO, Scary! I got shivers reading this. My imagination ran riot, and I really got creeped out. Thanks for the chilling experience.
DeleteIt gave me the chills !!!
DeleteI remember this poem for many years ago! I loved it then, and I still think it's amazing.
DeleteWe were parked at Presque Isle one night
ReplyDeleteThe Beatles were singing "I Wanna Hold Your Hand"
The UFO came out of the sky and hovered
We were afraid it was going to take us away
The Beatles were singing "I Wanna Hold Your Hand"
Now when I hear it I remember the UFO
We were afraid it was going to take us away
We were only teenagers and didn't know what to think
Now when I hear it I remember the UFO
We told people and they wouldn't believe us
We were only teenagers and didn't know what to think
We were scared and excited and filled with emotion
We told people and they wouldn't believe us
They laughed and they scoffed and called us fools
We were scared and excited and filled with emotion
And the Beatles were singing, I Wanna Hold Your Hand
They laughed and they scoffed and called us fools
But, I know what I saw as it hovered there
And the Beatles were singing, I wanna Hold Your Hand
When I hear the song now I remember the UFO
But, I know what I saw as it hovered there
The UFO came out of the sky and hovered
When I hear the song now I remember the UFO
We were parked at Presque isle one night.
This is a true story. It happened to my first husband and I while we were watching the sunset. The UFO was round and bright and hovered over us so, we got out of there with a quickness!!!
Deletei remember you telling me about this when you got home from that date with Rich after all these years it is stll fresh but you and Rich weren't watching the sunset when you saw this... he he he
DeleteI, well, um , I never ...hehehe
DeleteLinda, I can just imagine how frightened you two were all alone by the beach and along comes the UFO. I would have been gone within minutes if it had happened to me. Well written poem.
DeleteSomeone just the other day was posting about the UFO on Presque Isle on one of the Erie Facebook pages. I didn't realize you and Rich had seen it.
DeleteThis also is a true story and since it deals with aliens I thought it was appropriate that I publish it this week.
ReplyDeleteLabor Camp
We worked farm labor
lived in a labor camp
we didn't know how many
illegal aliens lived there with us
until one day...
The Border Patrol showed up!
at least 10 men and women disappeared
out the windows
some didn't get away
They pounded on our door at 6 am
My husband cussed them and cursed them
while we grabbed our pants, quickly
"Social Security card and photo ID" the uniform demanded
"Can't you tell I'm American by the way I cuss?"
stated my husband as he handed over his ID
"The woman, too" they shouted. "I'm not an alien"
"We want paper, you look Mexican to me!"
Begrudgingly, I handed over my ID.
The girl in the next small room was crying
the walls were paper thin
we could hear them roughing up her man
"I was going to marry him and make him
legal", she blubbered
"Too late now", the uniform said as
he pushed and shoved the illegal alien
and crammed him into
the already full van.
I was just telling this story recently to someone. scary poem and a scary time.
DeleteI always wonder what they would have done to us if we hadn't carried ID. But we learned to carry our Social Security cards because if you go to any city and go to the police station and show them your ID they will give you a dollar to get by on until you can get to another place that has work. It was very scary times traveling on a shoestring but somehow we made it. We lived in many apple labor camps and saw many things going on that most people don't even know about.
DeleteI liked the first one, but this one gives me chills. It's all powerful, but the ending is so powerful. I'm glad you're getting away from the pantoum a little. Any form can start to be a trap.
DeleteLinda, I remember that day very well. We were pretty cocky but, we were probably 2 out of 10 actual legal workers. You did a good job describing that day.
DeleteHow vivid is this! I like the strength of it. And how you have described it is very effective in every way.
DeleteWow, this experience was enthralling and passes me a life lesson, always carry your id .
DeleteAmazing poem. And story.
DeleteAliens
ReplyDeleteOut in space, in another realm may
live beings. We don't know.
Or maybe they're here right next to us
observing our ludicrous show.
We have illegal aliens which to me
seems pretty strange,
let's open up our minds and hearts to
make a needed change
Our lives are interwoven in the
universe we live
so let us make a difference and
share our love and give
Is alien a valid word or just a
state of mind?
To me it's just a concept
created by the blind.
very well written. I can tell you put a lot of thought into each line and word. good job!
DeleteThank you very much, Bonnie.
DeleteTO Paul :)
DeleteYes it's brewed with a casual sense of flavor
Having a potential to make one sit and ponder
And wander into the dungeons of delight and dreams
Carving out a subway, through the raging streams
That brooded like a muser high up in a dawn
Making me sound sleepy, plotting long strong yawn
Yet the sense of fallacy that rumbles up my life
I often feel alienated from this world which is wild
Since loneliness feeds me the verses that I scream and cry
To the holy madness the lives, breed and fly
Bursting out of closet to tame the naughty noise
People feign to act sober, mature and poised
But I fail to heed those advises of old
I am just a fawn who has many tales to roll
Up from my sleeves made of magic baked beans
Rustling like the falcon draped in smell of achene
That's calls up the nature to confess and confront
Of the Alien me that faces life upfront
Unlike the many losers hiding in capes of fake
I proudly weld like my life is at stake
Since creators are dreamers unlike how the world doubts
When I say I am a writer, they make silly pouts
Yet as I walk to my jaggery of joy
I feel to be at peace and no one to strip and toy
With the thoughts that dance along untamed and unbowed
I am just a writer to makes curses, promises and vows
:)
Anindya, WOW....that was a really a fantastic piece of work. Thank you very much!!!!
DeleteYou are welcome Paul :D
Deleteforgot to put that this is an ABC poem
ReplyDeleteVery powerful poem. You put a lot of grave reality in this poem. In the migrant camps you can buy anything including children and drugs. One can gamble away their whole check and get a loan from "bossman" who will then start a tab and soon there is no money coming in for the worker...Mexican camps are the worst. They cut each other and a woman has to have a protector or she will be raped. Your poem tells a lot of truth and not many people get to see that side of illegals. You have turned on the lights to a lot of truth.
ReplyDeleteWaltz
ReplyDeleteI am a common man who seeks to live and laugh
Forgetting the chains of harshness, poverty and love
That fails to bind and charm me with its musing spell of lust
And make me vow parodies of Promises and trust
I am just an Atheist who believes there is God
In every being that helps me or seeks help in accord
Either way I tend to feel a lump of something new
A yes, or a no or something thoroughly askew
The Autumn's passion and rain lives in dual piece of space
The mornings being blissful, sewing evenings of tragic trails
The mellows and mushrooms that Winter's promise grow
Shall perish in the mountains post every dew of hope
That breeds in my life in a maze of lies I chase
The Eternal sunshine croaks in sadist’s sordid gaze
At times I would break, through this veil of obvious dreams
And yet being a common man, I cannot even scream
My grudges and sorrows to the Almighty God
Since I say I am an Atheist, the men shall snub me Fraud
I don't give a damn, since I am an ordinary fool
My purpose seems to perish in a garden made of rules
Fires rein this heaven as Devil sows the land
With wrath of his Kraken closing the glassy glistened sand
In the empty bowl of chaos nuked with bloody baked truth
Make me the sentinel of Heaven’s fountain of Youth
Where beasties waltz with beauties through each day and night
And I shall hold my Armour and be their valiant knight
And protect them from forces offering prophecies of lies
Yet, I am just a clichéd ordinary, regular guy
Who works in a box cramped by six inches to four
Pecking in my wisdom of emotions and amour
Eons away in her own ways my Princess sleeps tonight
Let tomorrow dispatch troops to drive away her frights
The obscurus that blooms in the glamorous shards of gloom
Let it drown in happiness in her world of flying brooms
As she evolves to a woman to manoeuvre the remarkable coup
Spreading the conspicuous charm, breaking the curse of loop
Where lives a common man breathing all foolish wish
Fetter away this world into the realm of ceaseless bliss.
Anindya Ganguly © 2017 all rights reserved
Loved the line:The obscurus that blooms...very fine poem, wonderful melodious sounds. thanks for sharing.
DeleteWow. Powerful thing in this poem. Loved the way you used the line break in describing yourself as an atheist who believes there is god in all of us.
Deletethis is so beautiful it left me with a soft sigh. the imagery is wonderful and the words flow so gently yet speak so powerfully. love it!
ReplyDeletethanks Bonnie :)
DeleteAnindya, another WOW. another great word of art. Great imagery!!!
DeleteI read this aloud and the words flow like a river softly, gently on a calm day. The imagery left me with pictures in my mind of you and your life. I also say, WOW!!!
DeleteTo Anindya: from Paul and Linda
DeleteWhen love and respect are not enough
and we behold the Lord with fluff and stuff
We welcome those whose beliefs are different
Taken whole like medicine we vent
and the soul like magic becomes whole again
We think about God and Heaven then
and do not fear for hell or sin
we do not lust for alcohol and gin
nor women in their frenzied pretense
We take our lives one step at a time
and give our love to you in rhyme
Giving life and happiness
is what we do with great finesse
We find ourselves among like kind
and only wish to see your mind
Your soul is whole and blessed and sweet
your poetry a scholarly feat
We know that life can be so hard
But you my friend are a gifted bard
i loved the line "We take our lives one step at a time" and thank you for your compliment guys #To Linda and Paul :)
DeleteGlad to be under the influence of such majestic creators <3 <3 <3
Bonnie, this is a very sensational poem. The government treats the illegal aliens better than the veterans of our wars. They get housing and food stamps as well as a chance at becoming legal.
ReplyDeleteAlienation
ReplyDeleteI wasn't good at sports. I couldn't run fast.
I often missed the ball whether batting or fielding.
I was teased endlessly, taunted..
The square dances were like nightmares.
I got red in the face and confused.
I'd go left when I was supposed to go right.
I was big, and clumsy for my age.
They sang: "I don't want her you can have her
she's too fat for me, she's too fat for me, she's too fat for me…"
My life was different; I didn't fit in.
Everyone in my class knew the names of the baseball teams
the football teams, the basketball teams, and they got excited
when it was time for the world series.
I was a stranger in their world.
I read books and had adventures
In my mind, I lived in a world of my own,
my world,
alien.
Somehow the prompt reminded me of how I felt in grade school growing up in a world that I didn't fit into.
ReplyDeleteWhat a sad poem. and you're right it fits right in with the prompt in a different way. I can almost relate because I was very very little when I was in grade school. (3' at 8 years old) so playing some of those games were pure torture. I also lived a lot of my life in books. I hated volley ball, basketball, I always got hurt somehow. I got Linda Pinda she so skinny. Stand her beside a stop sign and she disappears. At least I had my sister Bonnie. Her and I were a team unto ourselves. This is a well written poem. I enjoy reading it aloud to Paul.
ReplyDeleteThank you very much, yes it is a sad poem and my time in grade school was sad, as was much of my early life though not in bad way compared with so many. I am happy it is over and my later years have been much happier and more fun.
DeleteBeing an Outsider always sucks. :/
DeleteI think many of us who are readers and writers can relate to this. I lived in books as a kid too.
DeleteVery sad poem Tasha. I was the fat boy. But, I played tuba so I had something important to do. I didn't have to join in the reindeer games. I liked the way your poem flowed when read aloud.
ReplyDeleteThank you Paul, you are most kind. I am glad you like the way it reads, that is always very important to me.
DeleteThe Outsider
ReplyDeleteWhen lingual skills fail to match its buzzing steps
Like the stubborn desires of a frail dished soul
Tampering with the tingling raw of Comic Sans
A being stands quietly at a constant state of freak.
Melodramatic musicals are taken in a single shot
Without the machinist's crucial touch or verve.
Cautiously sustaining within its belly an Outsider
That's how time chefs in cities made of silt.
The saga of a delude are unwillingly forged
In the frames construed long and wide
Stripping one naked in the swallowed parody
Developing a cult, lauded as a tragic tale.
The despair of screed seeps slowly undermine
The preludes predicted in a shallow verity
Tinsels are twanged ensiled in hollow hopes
Disdained by a sham hanging down an untied sling.
History reiterates that farce when
The Outsider emerges as proprietor lettering a theatre
Afflicting shame in a squeamish quagmire to folly lodgers.
Alas! Everything is a lie made of scripted truth.
Anindya Ganguly © 2017 all rights reserved
Very interesting...it seems as though it is a "rant" but I am not sure. I loved the last line. You use the English language very well...but, some of it I don't understand. Like "the despair of screed seeps slowly undermine..." What exactly did you mean there? I am curious as my sister Victoria was. Do you have the ability to speak many languages? Do you have a lot of education under your hat? Thank you for sharing so much of your beautiful poetry.
DeleteThank you for your compliment and criticism :)
DeleteThe manner in way I wrote this poem was like a story. The first when summarised talk about the problems faced due to language barrier when the person goes abroad to converse and communicate and makes one feel like a freak. The second para actually refers to as life being as boring as a musical (musicals are great but at times reflects monotone, which I was referring to) and yes all the words are selected with care and they do interpret a lot of depth. For example melodramatic musicals, refers to the chaos that characters undergo during a musical in rapidity and this lingering madness is what makes one think he or she is freak. In theatre, a machinist's job is nothing huge but important, to ensure everything is flowing fine. And it's just a summary. :) I can go on and on about this :D
The third para intricately binds to the second and steps down as this outsider (alien) starts to lose everything and his life becomes a parody at that time and later on people consider it as a cult tragedy, that's perhaps the most hard hitting truth of any life.
The fourth para is connected to the third, and talks about despair being finally screeded (cemented) to one's life. Again I chose the term screed to reflect long tedious speeches that friend shower to uplift one's spirit but in reality has no effect, slowly undermines the fact that a beginning was once predicted in the first place when this alien (outsider) has took off his/her journey filled to hold on to his morals and believes and nothing that entire castle of principles is quietly ebbing. Soon the outsider is losing his constant grab to reality and becoming more artificial (plastic or tinsels) and all these experiences are destroying every hope he or she has for carving a better world because (refer to the first para) he made his choice to be an outsider and now he has alienated from he was. He has no more respect left and he just hangs like a puppet which is not held by anyone still handing (and I chose the word hanging to refer to the fact in harsh reality at times people (personalities do choke getting engulfed by this momentous transformation that he/she never wanted in the first place. :/
The final para is more of a commentary of mine on the entire idea of communist's belief and
History repeats itself, first as tragedy, second as farce.
Read more at: https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/k/karlmarx382655.html
And it referred to marx's statement :)
And then if u think about the reason this outsider took the leap was to change the world but now he himself is a dictator (referring to Animal farm or even the US's/India's current government.
And final line is my understanding of everything that the world sees, is simply a scripted lie and truth and lie becomes synonyms.
P.S. I hate ranting. :P
DeleteWOW!!!! UM...Thank you Anindya...I understand you better now and I understand screed!! you did not rant and I am sorry if I made you feel that you did.
DeleteYou are from India aren't you???
DeleteI live in Australia now, but I am an Indian.
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