I hated you
the first time we met.
You had replaced my old love
before I had the chance
to even say goodbye.
You dared to appear
right as he vanished –
and for that
you had to take the blame.
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poem
Afraid of Living
I am not afraid to die –
but I am not yet
unafraid of living.
I’m not sure I have ever written truer words than the 3-line poem above. This little gem came to me while taking a bath last night, so I repeated it to myself like a mantra until I got out of the tub and could write it down.
It is true that I am not afraid of death. I am a bit afraid of the actual feeling of dying, mostly because of the instinctual anxiety I fear it would bring. However, I am not afraid of being dead. In fact, I rather look forward to it. If there is something after death, it will be awesome to explore and find out what else is out there. If there is nothing after death, it will just be like the times I have passed out or been put out for surgery…simply a loss of consciousness which often sounds like a relief in itself. No more worrying. No more pain. No more anxiety or depression.
However, living is scary. Knowing I may have years and years of dealing with anxiety and depression ahead of me. Knowing that I will likely suffer from chronic pain and chronic illness until I die. Knowing that my degenerative conditions will likely worsen with time. Fearing that my husband may get sick or die and I will be alone. Fearing financial ruin. Fearing homelessness. Fearing potentially abusive situations. Fearing the entire planet going to shit (a justifiable fear from my point of view). Fearing that I may end up committing suicide if life becomes unbearable (not the ending I would desire for my life).
3 New Elfchen Poems – Rock On, Ephemeral, Projection
Tomorrow I have a dentist appointment and haven’t been feeling too good anyhow, so thought I would post tonight. Here are a few more elfchen poems for your reading pleasure (with a few slight poetry form rule breaks lol):
1.
Woosh!
Down the
electric slide feet
first and head banging.
Rock on!
2.
Captivating,
moonlight glinting
off a rocky
ocean shoreline, lonesome
yet ephemeral
3.
Projection
please stop
blaming others for
your own bad ideas –
evolve
Poetry: Narcissistic Games
She could never let me sleep.
That would put us
on equal footing
and allow me
to be fully awake
and aware.
Instead,
she would sneak into my room,
shake me awake
and cry loud, calculated tears
while I practiced
hiding my true feelings
and tried my hardest
to become a limp, gray rock
held barely out of reach.
Micro Poetry: Modern Women
Modern women
Obsessed
with the hair
on their heads
At war
with hair
anywhere else
(Poetry by Maranda Russell, marandarussell.com)
Poetry – When I Was Hit By a Truck
Not many 10-year-olds
could be hit
by a speeding
delivery truck
while crossing the street
and live
to tell the tale…
but I always was
a weird statistic.
The truck ran
me over
with the ease
of a speed bump.
I even had the
tire tracks
and imbedded gravel
across my stomach
to prove it.
When I woke up
in the ER
I screamed out the names
of all the people
I was going to sue…
until my mother
bought my silence by
bribing me
with the promise
of a brand new
Barbie doll.
(Poetry by Maranda Russell, marandarussell.com)
Micropoetry: 3 Elfchen Poems
Recently I discovered Elfchen poems, which are 5-line poems that follow this pattern:
Line 1 – 1 word
Line 2 – 2 words
Line 3 – 3 words
Line 4 – 4 words
Line 5 – 1 word (different than the first line word)
It is also common to take the last word of someone else’s Elfchen poem to start off your own new one.
Here are several of my first tries with this poetic genre:
1.
Always
means never
when you live
in an unstable world,
alone.
2.
Stronger
and yet
weakness creeps in
settles on the edge,
waiting.
3.
Unsaid
the words
lie firmly under
your tongue in cheek,
bitter.
Twittering Tales #123 – Valentine’s Candy
Today was a rather stressful day since I had an appointment with my lawyer for my SSDI hearing next week, so I didn’t have time to plan a full post, but I did want to participate again in the Twittering Tales picture prompt by Kat Myrman. As I explained last week, this writing challenge is to simply write a short story, or poem, or whatever you want as long as it is under 280 characters (the length of a tweet).
Here is this week’s picture prompt and my entry for this week below (photo from Pixabay):
My mother considered naming me Candy, but worried that if I turned out to be fat, it would be more ammunition for the bullies to use against me.
I didn’t turn out to be fat, but I did turn out to love candy – except for those little Valentine’s hearts.
All sugar, no substance.
Poetry: Paper Doll
I’m a paper doll
with third degree burns.
Dress me up,
make me pretty,
and please, simply ignore
all the raw, peeling flesh
falling onto the floor.
(Poetry by Maranda Russell, marandarussell.com)
