I am gathering skeletons
Of human error;
Lurking in the corners
Of my life – rattling,
Refusing to
Collect dust Continue reading
Category Archives: Self
#OctPoWriMo Day 13-If I Were You
If I Were You
By Jesi Scott
If I were you
If you were me
Perhaps you’d see
Perhaps you’d be
The one I’d crave
The one to save
Save my life
Save my world
World in my heart
World torn apart
Apart from this
Apart and dismissed
Dismissed from here
Dismissed to disappear
Disappear from life
Disappear from view
View my hurt
View my pain
Pain everlasting
Pain forecasting
Forecasting to amend
Forecasting the end
End the history
End my misery
Misery of us
Misery in exodus
Exodus of the end
Exodus to begin
Begin again
Begin and feign
Feign these feelings
Feign these meanings
Meanings that lie
Meanings that cry
Cry a river
Cry and deliver
Deliver the package
Deliver the message
Message left behind
Message that’s over
Over and out
Over and without
Without a word
Without a doubt
Doubt you
Doubt me
Me in truth
Me so obvious
Obvious
Truth.
* Day 13: to express to someone your point of view using a Blitz poem, not my favorite form. I decided to put more thought and interest in it by making it rhyme as much as I could and to try and make it a little more challenging.
In the Mirror
When once again into this life
comes someone
who leads us into ourselves
and exposes the truth we shun,
We have a tendency to run
And hide, fearing we
Aren’t good enough and deserve the mockery
We know will come at our expense.
Until we dispense
With these inaccurately perceived notions
And learn to see the loveliness within
We lose out on so many sweet emotions.
So don’t be afraid; you need to see the picture clearer
When next someone shows you the beauty in the mirror.
Ouroboros
This is where I exist:
An endless loop
Returning to itself,
Going forward,
Going back,
Swallowing my tail,
Eternal heaven and hell,
Never any slack,
Pushing toward
an abyssal shelf,
no chance to recoup,
simply subsist.
Find me
Find me lying
Lying under the snow.
A wishfully-thought peace
Of mind,
Don’t mind
How I go
But I would rather
Foxtrot
Quick! Quick! Quick!
From life, not slow,
For little me
Who never learned to dance
For frightened me
Who never took the chance
For ugly me
Who ne’er accepted love
For stubborn me
Who wouldn’t change enough.
For all my loves
Whose love is just a loss
And finds me lying,
Lying under the snow
Stained dark throughout
And so whiteout
I go
With just one wish:
That I had the gumption
Daring, or even the snow
To accomplish
This.
Angry
Really,
It takes so little
(Relatively speaking)
To get me angry. Continue reading
Shadow soaked
Sidewaysed
In my peripherals
Tiny flashes
Smoke and ashes
Failing dreams
Block the sun
Shadow soaked
I’m done Continue reading
Your Something Means Something
I see you there
Blue eyes
Pink hair
Peaches’n’cream complexion
And looking like
Butter wouldn’t melt
Whilst I know
Beneath your
Picturesque perfection
Whirls a storm
Of wondering.
Wandering, adrift;
Mapless, or sometimes
Without signpost
And the gut instinct
That maybe
You’ve gotten lost.
Out it pours –
The many-pathwayed
Multi-layered
Kelidoscope-splintered
Rush of thought,
Falling into words
In desperate bid to make
Sense
Of anything.
Of being.
Of being HERE.
Of being here and who and how
You are, and why
You make a difference.
Which you do.
Unbeknownst
For as you wander
(And wonder)
You leave a little trail
A smattering of breadcrumbs
A trail of glittering lamps
Within the gloom
Of unknowing
And gradually
With each brave step
You show a way
Of being
Something,
Because your Something
Means something
To someone.
Each day
You’re leaving
Footprints
For others
To consider
Following.
Very few people (well, maybe more people than I think, in fact) tend to inspire poetry from me as instantly as this poem happened, but it happened anyway, in response to something my friend Rachel E. Bledsoe, of Misfits of a Mountain Mama, said.
If I died tonight
If I died tonight
I’d be okay
I know you love me
I know I’m safe
If I died tonight
I wouldn’t cry
There’s nothing left
I need to try Continue reading
Between the Lines
And then there are those who get lost
Between the lines; whose lives transposed
In blood, and sacrifice of sanctity –
Of flesh –
Gouge runnels to avoid,
And yet create more, mess…
There are those whose anger bleeds
Turned inwards, for turned out t’would never cease
Or desist, and so ‘tis simpler then
To dig deep,
Watch red,
And be stilled when
It flows and pours away
And then those others whose bruised bones
Don’t shatter, bend, or break;
Whose rhythmic tones
Of thud-thud-thudding
Stay the course of action
To something worse?
To catatonia?
Distraction?
Or those whose muddled heads fill in
So quick with vengeant anguish at their sin
(Whomsoever’s the fault, they take it for their own)
And through disfigurement somehow disown
Their part, for transformed thus
By shame; by scars
Pathetic! Such a fuss
And all laid on their skin to no avail
Except now all can see how very
Very
VERY
Much
They fail.
Those white-tracked lines
Those faded, skin-sealed whispers
All combine
In permanent reminder of
This time
That time
One time
Again you cut;
You cut again!
All saw
You cut
Dumbfuck.
Poetry can strike at any time, and on this occasion it was a submitted post over at Sisterwives – The Last Time I Cut – which was the culprit inspiration for this piece.
Each verse I wrote has applied to me in the past (sadly not as distant past as I would prefer to admit) and the lack of compassion therein is only extended to myself. Self-harm is bad news, because it often feels like the only way forward at times, and if you do it, please find someone you trust to talk to about it.
The Well Tempered Bards 