She thought she was going to have a good life, but she didn’t, no she didn’t.
Every scrap of love was fickle, every realized dream a nightmare.
Everyone who told her she was sweet as lollipops had no problem dropping her in the trash when they were finished sucking the life out of her.
But how are you today?
Today’s poetry prompt words were: no she didn’t, fickle, and lollipops.
Photo by Crazy Cake on Unsplash
What book are you reading right now?
I’ve been enjoying very, very good poetry today, by a poet who got her start on Instagram just like I’m sort of kind of trying to do.
I recommend this book.
I’m glad the days of casual dating are over, and there won’t be anymore awkward first times, or men who woo and ditch me, or worse, pretend that I’m interesting and then forget what I said.
I’ve been there, and give the whole thing zero stars. They say you can’t find a man at a bar, but how is finding one online better? It used to be such a foolish and dangerous thing.
But what is a life with no hope for more first kisses on Providence Street? Is it better to sleep comfortably with the same man every night, … Read the rest
We met when your only job was shuttling your children back and forth to their various activities, and now I know you loved that more than most things. You’d drive for hundreds of miles just to get the chance to drive them another few hundred miles.
You are a warrior father. You will go to battle for them but not for me. I am the one you defend them against. You keep me away to keep them protected, and it hurts me, it hurts me, and not a single cook in the kitchen has a clue, or would care … Read the rest
Writing poetry every morning, like EVERY morning lately has done some good things for my psyche.
But not watching the news in the morning probably helps even more. I used to come down with my coffee and turn on the news – no more.
I wanted to be part of the solution, I am not going to be part of the problem, and in my work and heart I’m doing good for people.
I have one life. That’s enough for everyone else to take. I’ve given quite enough.
In the beginning
our sleeping arrangements were
“only once in a while”.
That didn’t keep it
from being a fairytale;
you were my whole world.
When the bed was ours
I won the damn lottery,
is this what’s called luck?
Today’s poetry prompt words were: sleeping arrangements, fairytale, and lottery.
Photo by Wyxina Tresse on Unsplash
Maybe we all have in us a secret pond where evil and ugly things germinate and grow strong. But this culture is fenced, and the swimming brood climbs up only to fall back. Might it not be that in the dark pools of some men the evil grows strong enough to wriggle over the fence and swim free? Would not such a man be our monster, and are we not related to him in our hidden water? It would be absurd if we did not understand both angels and devils, since we invented them.
John Steinbeck, East of Eden
