What Made Me a Woman?I fear Brooks would be shocked by my lack of 'cool'.What Made Me a Woman?
Is it the turn of my hips, the curl of my smile? Am I condemned to Angelou's vision of beauty, confined by the isolated death-cries of Dickinson? Have I battered down enough of Walker’s doors to do my sex service? Did Sojourner really find the truth?
Poetry hasn't written me a woman yet.
There aren’t words marking breasts as little more than scars or stanzas cultured around the ovary I lost after losing my child.
All I know is this: God m
The ScarThe morning wore a chill, cloaked in fog and damp air that drifted in light-circles against a grey backdrop; streetlamps flickered, some already dark in places where a sliver of autumn sun burned through. There were sounds, but they were not unfamiliar: the hum of a patrol car, the crunch of gravel under Orange boots, the echo of commands barked in a harsh out-County accent. Huddled together for warmth, our breath betraying our position, we stood with gripped hands and attained a steely resolve, resigned to take our first step. This was our walk to school.The Scar
In Derry, known by official terms as Londonderry, there is a road that
LinesThe rains have come: oak branches bend, weighed down by soggy leaves intent on falling, and he watches them through two layers of glass, both refracting clouds.Lines
Unaware of the gray outside, he
turns to the storm in his head, where
white lines make his blank eyes gray. He leans forward, falling limp onto his bed. Outside, showers; he will sleep well tonight.
The Grammar GangstersBeware the grammar gangsters! The mafia of the literary underworld. They saunter into stanzas, Weapons concealed Under their trench coats Or in violin cases.The Grammar Gangsters
They can make you talk, "With just a few well-placed speech marks," Leave you shouting! Where you should have whispered! And pulp your bold statements into quavering questions? They can, pepper, your, phrases with, commas, Or bring your piece to a dead. Full. Stop.
They'll trap you (between brackets) As you - dash - to the exit. Then: punch a blunted colon Into the gut of y
I Have My ReceiptHello there, I'm just returning this-- Yes, I bought this heartI Have My Receipt
around the time of my conception, when it was shining and new,
gooey like glue, and then it burst with thoughts of you. and for awhile I thought it might still work, until you became such a jerk.
It fizzled like some cheap contraption, and ate my mind with the given time-- I convulsed there in my electric chair,
ensnared by the thoughts it gave:
dreams of you, in that gooey glue, love sick way
that lets it stay, to keep it around
for another day or two,
untitled ifrom a distance, i watched him take me as the evening shattered and rained on cupped flesh. his eyes grew dark with forgotten promises as mine grew bright with either fear or anticipation. i was unsure, even then.untitled i
trust me, he said, and i did. believe me, he said, and i did. take me, he said, and i did. love me, i said, and he was silent.
he smothered my words with his lips, and bound my hands with trust. he lay back and watched as i struggled with myself. trust me, he said.
believe me, he said. take me, he said. and i di
by *balaa
by `hellfirediva
easter greetings
Relief
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Support me in my 2009 HIV/AIDS Walk
StJoan, M.D. of DramaLlamaology
Literature GM at your service.
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I have absolutely nothing interesting to say.
Thank you for your time
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~D
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I know how the devil sleeps at night
He lights the fire behind my eyes
And he lets it there and I let it lie
I know how the devil sleeps at night
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Some days I write those words, others they write me.
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[link] Hottest RPC on dA.
If I were the rain that binds together the earth and sky, who in all of eternity will never mingle, would I be able to bind the hearts of people together?
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