Soy un perdedor
Green things growing and the scent of soil
Raindrops flowing
Back-breaking toil
Gardening hard
To fight back the weeds
Tilling the earth
Preparing for seeds
I’m a loser baby
Sunrise, sunset, light in between
Ready? Not yet
Branches turning to green
So much blossom
Dance, petals, dance
Let the wind stain your fingers
Let the colours enhance
So why don’t you kill me?
Springtime’s travesty of life all anew
Hidden depravity
And the trust that you blew
Winter’s last clutches
Are falling apart
They’ve found a new home
In the depths of my heart
He loves me not
He loves me not
He loves me not.
Pastorale. Something about the Earth.
Give me 6 feet of it.
All I need.
The Well Tempered Bards 
š¶
Speechless yet again. You have such a gift.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Not tonight. Tonight I want 6 feet of earth and not to be vomiting my soul into corners of the internet. But it might be all I’m good for, so at least it’s vaguely redeemed by poetry.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Then we’re both in the same boat tonight. I’d just like to disappear for a time until I can come back and be whole.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I slept. Awake hurt too much. I hope you found a way to escape that wasn’t desctructive *HUGS* So sorry about your boat š¦
LikeLiked by 1 person
I knit a hat and watched The Avengers. Didn’t really help but made me forget for a bit. Now…back to the April blues. Hope your sleep helped some.
LikeLiked by 1 person
A little. The Avengers makes me sad to come back to Real…
LikeLike
Me too. I went to bed after it was over.
LikeLiked by 1 person
*HUGE HUGS* š¦
LikeLiked by 1 person
Heartbreaking.
LikeLiked by 1 person
*shrugs* Apparently I’m really NOT worth it. At least I can write poetry about it, right? Makes it aaaalll better. *sigh*
LikeLike
You’re worth everything.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You’re sweet and I appreciate your presence in my life, and your friendship, so much
LikeLiked by 1 person
Anyone who tells you that is just projecting their own feelings of self-worth onto you. You are priceless, Lizzi. No, poetry does not make it all better, but writing down the feelings does help let the negative out that might otherwise consume you.
You are worth everything, dear heart.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I was responding to feedback. There apparently ARE ways I’m not wanted/worth it/important enough/loved enough to be trusted and included. But hey I’d rather know now than after another don’t know how many more years…
LikeLike
This is true. And I know what you mean. Living that sequence myself right now. I actually wrote a different poem for my pastoral but it wasn’t spring-ish. So I came up with a different one-though yours said what I was feeling.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I know, my friend, I know, and I *hate* that you are, too. At least we have each other and the serendipity of somehow having met in this weird world between the wires, and having fallen in friends. I’m glad of you, Jesi, SO glad of you ā¤
LikeLiked by 1 person
Out of pain comes beauty. Beauty it is, Lizzi! ~hugs~
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes – at least I can do THAT.
LikeLike
I toiled in the daylight
I pulled at the weeds
Till my fingers were bloody
And sinew malfunctioned
And fingers were twisted
And twitching and writhing and cramping
And shrivelling into a fist
Of numb frightening horror
And limp-tight
And useless
And fallen
And broken
LikeLiked by 1 person
On my knees in the garden
I dug out that hole
My hands deep in earth
As I bled out my soul
Cover me up
Let me un-become whole
On my knees in the garden
Where peace is my goal
LikeLike
Your feet free in earth
A fresh strong sunlit tree
Your roots reaching under
And drawing in blood
From the soil
That piled on life
In the garden
The quiet
The peaceful
The shading protector
The bearer of fruit
And a home to the weary
The flying
And resting
And making anew
The tree in the meadow
So beautiful
You
LikeLiked by 1 person