Not Having a Lover
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Wednesday, November 22, 2006. Some of them only for weeks,. And years, enough so. I thought the whole world. And then when they left. What more can I say? For more poems about relationship, click on the links to the right. Poetry Immersion Classes with Joan Dobbie. Some Thoughts and How to on Poetry Writing.
Poems that deal with inner turmoil. Sometimes poetry is a good form of therapy. These poems came out of an attempt to heal by facing inner demons. Poems that focus on Psychological stuff. Poetry Immersion Classes with Joan Dobbie. Some Thoughts and How to on Poetry Writing. What I Learned One Day in Hell.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007. But then felt it move. This poem appeared in my graduate thesis, 1988. Poems that focus on Psychological stuff. Poetry Immersion Classes with Joan Dobbie. Some Thoughts and How to on Poetry Writing.
Saturday, April 7, 2007. You have sired my children. I hold you on my lap. Nurse you at my breast. I love you, lose you. And find you, but can never. Quite sew you into my life. On bright sunny days you smile. In the dark of my chest. But come night you turn hard. You are ransacking my house. I run from my bed.
Saturday, December 2, 2006. HOW I MADE A FRIEND. Hey Monkey Man, Prince man, King of the Castle. Bicycle Rider, Scaler of Trees. Be my friend, please, if you will. Teach me to ride with you, climb with you. Teach me to sway with the breeze. Show me the secrets of Pumpkinland Heaven. Map me the path of her moon. Pray that she shines on me soon. Silly man, Monkey Man, rider of rapids.
The Dog Died on a Daily Basis. The Dog Died on a Daily Basis. Then the next day it died again. Those were the days left for mourning. There was always a new death. After a while the baby started dying as well. It became a daily occurrence. Dog death and baby death. Then came the leaving of lovers. They came just to leave. They left you and then the next day. It was a kind of daily rape.
Monday, May 7, 2007. To do it, but. I threw my baby out the window. It was made of glass. Made of glass, and yet. I broke my legs, my arms. Was ripped off at the cheek. Today I bleed and bleed. I come to you in agony of shame. To plead for thread and needle. Plaster, glue and surgical tools.
Monday, May 21, 2007. A wind so dark it breaks up branches, shatters poles. Jew bodies burned- Jew spirits shake the trees-. Inside my head, the horror blows and blows. Born of the holocaust I swallow fear. Like food and suffer childhood without end. I choose a man as cold as wind is where.
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Not Having a Lover. Or I taste my Sour Grapes. After dreaming what I dream. I wake to my world. Not having a lover. Outside my window the sparrows and starlings. Are chirping in sunshine. Inside my mind is my daughter. Dawn who lives with her boyfriend. Who doesnt take care of her. She is sick with an ear infection. It is too early to call or bring. I would like to bring her mint tea. My Andy and friends are sleeping. All over the living-room floor. In chubby boy bodies. All of them have been playing.CONTENT
This web page joansnothavingalover.blogspot.com states the following, "Or I taste my Sour Grapes." We saw that the webpage said " After dreaming what I dream." It also said " I wake to my world. Outside my window the sparrows and starlings. Inside my mind is my daughter. Dawn who lives with her boyfriend. Who doesnt take care of her. She is sick with an ear infection. It is too early to call or bring. I would like to bring her mint tea. My Andy and friends are sleeping. All over the living-room floor. All of them have been playing."SEEK SIMILAR DOMAINS
The Dog Died on a Daily Basis. The Dog Died on a Daily Basis. Then the next day it died again. Those were the days left for mourning. There was always a new death. After a while the baby started dying as well. It became a daily occurrence. Dog death and baby death. Then came the leaving of lovers. They came just to leave. They left you and then the next day. It was a kind of daily rape.
Friday, January 5, 2007. It happens i turn on cold. And the spray as it tickels my toes. Or waking on a hot night. And reaching for some body. This too Y E E S S S. And the grins on our faces.
A Poem to a girl named Jessica. Friday, February 4, 2011. In the womb all babies. We begin by counting their fingers. Now imagine a child born with limbs. That do not work and will not grow. She has neither fingers nor toes. Telling the mother about the virtues. Being that she is still so young. Yet the mother wavers because.
Sunday, November 26, 2006. Of Andy started in May. Delicious, fat, golden sun. Day after day, I lay with my new. Baby son, my chubby, pink, naked. Beautiful peeper, under that sun. Not to trust, while my just as. Naked, just as beautiful, impishly. Adorable daughter, my Dawn,. Played Barbie, or waded, or. Was almost as naked as they.