Janet Leigh tagged me for a six words memoir meme.

Fragile, broken, haunted. She spills words.

I tag Penelope, Marie,Stacey,Endi, and Soarise.


Here are your instructions:
Write your own six-word memoir.
Post it on your blog and include a visual illustration if you’d like.
Link to the person that tagged you in your post and to this original post if possible so we can track it as it travels across the blogosphere.
Tag 5 more blogs with links.
And don’t forget to leave a comment on the tagged blogs with an invitation to play.

By the way, this is inspired by Ernest Hemingway's famous six word story For Sale: baby shoes, never worn.

The E award

Marie, who pens fantastic tales about vampires and blogs at Deep Thinker, has given be an E for Excellence Award.

I have to pass it on to ten bloggers. I choose to honor:
Soarise
Adrian

Susan

Janet Leigh

Wandering Author

Stories of True Love

Robin

Anna

Stacey

Audrey

Despair is a hunter

fueled by the scent
of giving up
and giving in

that rises in the air
when hope has gone.

Despair has a hunger

opened mouth
it reaches in

slides into the spaces
where life should be found.

Despair came to find me

calling softly,
like a lover,

like a lover who was better
than having no one
at all.

And I should have fought him,
fought him harder than
I did,

but despair feels like home
when despair is all

there is.

Despair is a hunter...

and I am its prey.

Silent Screaming

Why don’t you just scream?
Scream if you have to.
Scream and prove you are still alive.


Your silence stifles me,

leaves me hanging,
grasping old photographs,
bitter and mute.

Looking like
the angry one to your unaffected eyes.

Smiling your deception at me
cause you’re just fine.

Fine.
Fine.
Fine.


It’s either fable or truth
and that’s based on your perception.

You who is

so happy to live your happy
little lie.

While
silently I feel us die.

I am figthing for love

but you can’t be bothered to
decide
if you even
have a thing left to say.

You move through this play
we are now pretending is
Our Good Life
like the man you think you should be.

Some picture you saw once in a magazine.
Stiff upper lip, tense manly pride.

Does that leave you satisfied?

It leaves me lacking,
after years apart from you
while you were standing right here

two feet away in our cozy kitchen

cooking up

heart hardening lies.


Words unspoken still sting.

I’ve heard everything you never said to me.
I’d rather that you would just open your mouth and


scream.



Note-

My work process for the poem posted above. It is a creation born from Patchwork Poetry.

First I found a line at Words that Sing. That inspired the whole poem. I then looked through the other poems donated and found more lines I could fit it. i was very tempted to change one word in one line but that is against the rules. Can you guess which word.

Anyway,the picture of this battle weary, stony couple formed in my mind as I wrote out the wife's inner duel between anger and anguish.

Thanks to lirone, scott, jillypoet, mariacristina and paisley for donating lines.

Spun

The oceans of time turn unafraid
of all my
futile rage.

And if I screamed out secrets,
purging my soul.
Would anyone notice

or care?

This world spins on,
like I'm not even here.


Note- This was written for Poets Who Blog Interactive Grab and Go poetry post. The darkened line is courtesy of the Random Line Generator at Poets Online.

Univited

You throw your love at me like firecrackers
sparkling into thousands of pieces,
imbued with absolutions,


and just expect me to grasp
at flames.

To bless your sacred name
like you were my savior

from sin.

Did I ever ask for saving?

Should I fall upon my knees
and give thanks,
long after you burned me now
you grant
you grant
you grant

your love.




You might think it’s a deep, deep well
any woman would be lucky to
fall in.

Not looking for a chance to swim
back into your embrace.
Not hoping you can be the one
who saves

me,

not willing to be burned or scarred.

Can’t make love out of two scorched hearts.



Note- This poem was written for Patchwork Poetry with lines donated by these poets:

mariacristina,just paisley and jilly poet.

Thanks for the inspiration.

shatter me like shells
strewn upon the beach
underneath your feet

shatter me like china
hanging on the wall,
like sun breaking nightfall

shatter me like hope
resting in a chest
another thing you left

shatter me
hard and quick and good
shatter me
shatter me
there was never a question you would.

Steady hands

tethered to my past
bound by its grip
and everything I've ever lost-
uneasy to forget.

why don't you come across
this water now,
for you know that I am sick.
need your help in this crossing now-
a reason to exist.


steady hands in hurricanes,

you always had a way
of making the awful seem
lovely-
crazy seem sane.

broken birds are innocent,
innocent they say.
and every sin will be forgiven
if you only pray.

so won't you

brush me your steady hands,
wash this anger
off my back.

keep me floating in the water,

and
make up
for all I lack.

make up for all I lack.
take me in your steady hands.

There is this second that you own.
Though most would waste it, heaven knows.
Breathe deeply before God calls you home.

For sins we later can atone-
washed clean, like water off a rose.
There is this second that you own

Buck hard against the buffer zone;
rage like wild fire on the status quo.
Breathe deeply before God calls you home.

Ride the world like a cyclone.
Leave not a breath for regrets to grow.
There is this second that you own.


Blink twice, the pages have all flown
off the calendar, fate cruelly exposed.
Breathe deeply before God calls you home.

Hope dies quick when postponed.
Dreams give in to the death throes.
There is this second that you own
Breathe deeply before God calls you home.

Note- This is my first attempt to write a villanelle.

Qualcosa di bello from Write Away was nice enough to give me a



Roar for Powerful Words Award.

Part of receiving this is that I must list three things I believe is necessary to make writing good and powerful.

Be fearless in your creating- Do not hold back because your mother, spouse, boss or best friend might read it and judge you. Write your truth. Delve your deepest emotions and infuse your work with the essence of them.

Be vicious with your editing- Each word should be on the page for a reason. It should help to paint your picture, to tell your story. I always say that each word should be put on trial for its life. Each word must carry the reader forward, never letting them lose their focus or way.

Keep working on it till you love it- The words should wash over you like a song, whether it is poetry or fiction. They should flow like a rushing river that transcends the every day world. If you can fall in love with your work, then it will be good and powerful for you, and maybe for the rest of the world too.

I must pass this award on to five bloggers whose work I admire:


Marie at Deep Thinker
Penelope from Cafe at the End of the Universe
JM from Fallen Words
Shakir at The Crimsonflaw Lived to Tell the Tale
Rax at Soul Phantasm

A curse
he harbored within his soul-
secrets making that
young man
old

before his time.

Deny,
deny,
deny.

Till the acid of those lies
bled
like internal sores and his mouth
could deny
no more.

He slammed
bricks of truth
on the wood floor.






***The last sentence comes from Mariacristina, who donated it at Poets Who Blog Interactive.
Feel free to stop by and take part in our poetry prompts there.

Beloved

Wipe the snow off your grave,
trace
my finger over your name.

I do this in remembrance...
I do this in remembrance...
I do this in remembrance...

Press the roses that you gave,
stroke
the memories like a flame.

I do this in remembrance...
I do this in remembrance...
I do this in remembrance...

You're every glint that’s in my mirror,
You're every shadow on my wall.

In every breeze
I'm sure I hear you.

I’m dancing with the ghost that you are.


I do this in remembrance...
I do this in remembrance...
I do this....




NOTE- This was written for Poets Who Blog Interactive’s Pick and Pull Prompt.

....and in the end,
it falls the same.

one breath
left.

one blink remains.

the best to
hope for,

all things the same,


your hand to hold

as I
drift away.


Note- This was written for Poets Who Blogs. The prompt was Comfort.

Its
running fast into the wind.

And its
swimming far away from shore.

It's
swinging hard at fragile glass,
kicking down steel doors!

Riding out all my fears
while I spill these words,
spill these sins,

see my blood
stain my skin.

Cut me open-
watch
the world crawl right in.

Make no apology for who I am-

This
is what it is,
this is what
it is.



Note- This poem was written for the Poets Who Blog prompt: What Poetry Means to Me.It describes how it feels like to me to create a poem, which at its purest forms is, imo, putting the rawest part of you on display for the world to see.

Reflections dance upon the grave

where I lay
every molecule of pain
you ever gave
to me.

Bitterness

shimmers in the
dying rays
of the sunset

on the
darkest day
of winter this year.

Crows cry in the rain
as all you ever gave
all you ever gave
dies and withers away
away
away

Glistening silver
falls from the skyline
coating my world
with ice,

leaving me aching,
shivering craving
fiery nights

gone by.

with eyes closed

I feel you

sink your teeth into my
soul-

you've made a meal of me.


Written for Read Write Poem

Inside Out

She spends her time in fallout shelters in her mind, can't run far enough.

Putting pen to page -this life- making beauty out of nothing at all.

These poems are an attempt at writing American Sentences for a prompt at

A hand reaching through the fire-
take me in
and shield my soul.

The world around us is dying,
but with
you here


I would never
know.




*written for the prompt Friendship at Writer's Island

Still, Still, Still

Centuries later and
still

I write poems inspired by you
still

cause I am

a silly, silly girl,

your sinful lonely girl......



still