Speak cheerfully,
Like your world’s not about to crumble
Grab that shy umbrella
Open it aggressively
Some days, weep
Angel with nervy wings speeds by
Reminds me to proceed with caution
I wake up, confident…
Like the morning’s something special
Because it is
And emotion is reckless art
Writing…
Out of one’s mind
And into someone else’s
Small ripples in a vast ocean
Flashy clouds presiding
By Mary Ann Blinkhorn
he was being a complete and utter arsehole to you
repeatedly . . .
and you knew it while it was happening
yet after he dumps you
you find yourself heartbroken
unable to go on
tear track marks forming
tears flowing
trudging their way down cheeks
stinging
singing evening arias
on wet stained pillow cases
night after night
night after night
you sit there
penning melancholy poems and lyrics
of loss
of tragedy
to be played on raw catgut strings
so unfair
your thoughts bordering on madness at times
writing crazy stuff
not your style
your rage from helplessness
eating away at you
in half-starved intervals
alternated with sorrow . . .
you feel uneasy
crumble under the pen
crumple the words you’ve written
your face drawn and redrawn
sun shining
birds singing outdoors
a word of advice
instead of the image of he or she
imagine a dog’s arsehole
envision it in your mind
the wrinkles, the dot in the center
and you pining for it
night after night . . .
when you put it that way
it seems rather ridiculous
doesn’t it?
there are other fish in the sea
and you deserve a good one
by mary ann blinkhorn
Written for Three Word Wednesday at: http://www.threewordwednesday.com/2012/08/3ww-cclxxxiv.html The three words: crumble, drawn, uneasy
mypenandme 