I became one of those who disappeared…
diving into the belly of disjointed thoughts
malaise, discontent and limbo
I became one of those who disappeared
my voice broken and rusty
like an old unused tap on an abandoned site
I became one of those who disappeared
saving all my energy for survival
battling existential crisis
I became one of those who disappeared…
from out of the deep a voice called
head raised, I stare into the sun
it’s not yet over…
© Jacqueline 2019
Image credit – Pixabay
she turned
unwillingly against her will,
by the stroke of faith
and lottery played
by virtue of birth
she became
one of those diligent
bowed, sad women
who live on a long course
of docile, thankless servitude
she lived
in fear of showing,
saying or doing the wrong thing
her desires swallowed
dreams doused and denied
she smiled
pretending to have
no misgivings about life
but when you looked closely
silent desperation stood stark and pathetic
© 2019 Jacqueline
I know many women like this. Maybe you know one too. They are all around you. Maybe you used to be one of them.
I’ve fallen;
far too many times
than I can count,
that the only way
for me to fall again
is to rise up.
© 2018 Jacqueline
© 2019 Jacqueline
fruits of the vine
mature with age,
and so does sage.
wisdom, she lost,
buried in the deep cups
of the grapevine.
© Jacqueline 2019
Thank you Ronovan, I enjoyed this prompt.
These are
the number of kisses that we’ve had
the little dinners we have held
the evening walks on Tuesday’s end
the glorious sunsets around the bend
These are
the number of laughter we have shared
the times our silence has been paired
the million tiny tales we’ve told
the times you held me when I cried
These are
the moments we lived as we foretold
the times that slipped and went untold
the many nights our eyes went unslept
the promises made and yet unkept
These are…
I don’t do drugs,
she told herself in consolation,
yet she stuffed her face
and got sedated
on pies and cream cakes,
her righteous self
busting at the seams
This is me of late. Guilty! I am an emotional eater and when I’m unduly stressed like I’ve been for many weeks now, I go into eating overdrive.
I searched his eyes
but he was long gone
wandering a private,
and distant place
a landscape with no zipcodes
and no maps.
I tried to call him back
all in futility
he was stuck
in the corridors of silence
unreachable…
© 2018 Jacqueline
This poem came to my mind when I heard of Senator John McCain’s passing. I don’t know him personally except for what was made public, but I developed a healthy amount of respect for him as I read a bit more about him. May His Soul Find Rest.
I saw it coming.
I grudgingly said hello.
I allowed it to simmer and linger.
Depression.
That uninvited guest.
Comes to spend the night on your couch,
and ends up
staying for weeks on end
in your room and bathrobe.
I have my episodes, like I did this past week and a lot of times they are triggered by very innocuous, mundane things. such as a break in my rituals.
Sometimes, I can’t even put a finger on the precise point of trigger, or even encapsulate my emotions properly in words. What I do know, however, is that as hard as it may be to get out of that bed and bathrobe and face your day, for those of us who go through these down times, it’s very important to focus on daily pick-me-up rituals. They have a way of keeping you grounded.
I want to walk the earth,
to capture its vision
through the lens of my eyes
maybe many memories
will be framed
to hang on the wall
but most importantly,
are those memories made
and stored in my mind’s eye.
© 2018 Jacqueline
a cooking pot and twisted tales 