If you were asked to write a poem, would you start with, “Roses are Red, Violets are Blue …”?
When I was younger, I thought all poetry was filled with rhyming words and painted fun images in our minds. Then I was assigned to do a book report on Edgar Allen Poe and I quickly learned, not all poetry is fun. This guy darkened my images and took the fun out of rhyming. It was an absolute struggle at the age of 13, having to stand in front of my class and read, “The Raven”. As an adult, I can appreciate the classics, but as a kid, no thanks!
Later in my teens, I found an interest in poetry and tried creative writing. I actually liked it. Most of my poems were about deep thoughts or personal matters. Not the kind of poems I wanted to share with others. They were not too dark, just personal.
When I started to write about fun subjects and the people in my life, I really enjoyed it. In fact, I have a copyright on one of my poems about Santa Claus and there’s been talk about turning it into a children’s book.
Overall, I think poetry can be fun and a great way to express thoughts. I have met many people who are very good at writing. Recently, a good friend of mine has attended a few poetry readings. She’s an excellent writer and on her way to publishing (at least that’s my opinion).
How do you feel about poetry? Have you written anything? Do you have a favorite poem? Or, have you read one recently that has had an impact on you? Please share them with us.
My Discomfort
Her fingers curl in on each other
like the twisted brances of
some primeval tree
whose limbs have been
hacked off at the bend,
left to weather
the harsh New England clime,
unforgiving
and relentless.
I begin at the wrist
and try to trace
one finger,
once long and lean
and agile
through the confused chaos,
but I'm forced to look away.
It's like staring into the sun.
My eyes burn
and I feel them tearing.
She doesn't seem to notice
my discomfort.
My discomfort.
Her days of knitting
baby sweaters
and winter mitters
have vanished
like the snow
at spring's first kiss.
She fumbles
for a pan handle,
the pain etched
across her face
for me to see
quite clearly,
all while
she smiles and hums.
My discomfort.
violets are blue
arthritis is a nasty green monster
but I wouldn't be the same
without hue
in order to express the randomness of life
in these ways....
Issadora Saeteng
My bones are papier-mâché creations
Vulnerable to the devastation
Of this tissue-papered reality
I could crumble under the weight of your gaze
Hobbling on pins and needles and platform shoes
Fissures grow deeper
And splinter my foundation
Shattering your image of me in the process
Time is limited
My femurs fracture
And this delicate, brittle porcelain womb cannot hold you for long
Not long enough for either of us
Tumbling, I fear the day
When I am finally in pieces
And shards of jagged bone
Pierce through my skin
Spikes and rods replacing that foundation
That collapsed once the winds came.
copyright@deserae constantineau
This is one I wrote recently related to the topic at hand...
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A morning tale (April 30, 2009)
alarm goes off like every morning
sleepy eyes yearning
for just a few more moments
press snooze
sleep a little more
alarm sounds again
bringing night to an end
she carefully sits up
feeling tight stiff limbs
bent like the tree outside in the garden
the floor below her
afraid to step down
a slight wince
encases her face
as her toes touch this place
stiff sore feet
now standing
sorta bent
she shuffles along
a lot like penguins
waddle waddle waddle along
slowly as an hour or two passes
her limbs feel some freedom
like normal
as they should be
the pain has not settled much
the waddle not as pronounced
still a slight limp
that betrays
the broken self
sitting at the table
she takes the thin needle
injects a medicine so clear
it’s hope
packaged in a bottle
of expensive liquid
just injected in
no cure in the bottle
but some relief it can bring
try to rationalize the risk over the hope
it’s quite the gamble
a dozen pills she swallows
steroids to actively attack inflammation
gives puffy cheeks and loads of weight
untold
folic acid to prevent side effects
ferrous sulfate to combat anemia
a proton pump inhibitor to protect the stomach
so she can take a NSAID
like Indocin
or naprosyn
or some other non steriodial anti inflammatory drug
Pheeewww
that’s one mouth full
for her stomach to dread
some anti seizure drugs for nerve pain
some antidepressant drugs for
you guessed it…
the mood
what did you expect
who wouldn’t have a sucky mood
when dealing with a body acting like a fool!!
After she has swallowed her pills
she can go on her way
her morning spent
just preparing for the day
I’m sure you’re thinking
this is some old ladies tale
but no
I have Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis
and this is an experience I recall from when I was around Twelve
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