i can't understand the everyday tears,
flowing with such an ease,
rolling down my face to join
the butterflies in my stomach.
i'd ask, please,
the oldest man in the room to stand
and fill me with his spirit
if it were to give you all a gaze;
just so you could drop your jaws,
and echo in astonishment
like in the good old days.
i could go back to my pen
and write you all another bitter story,
the ones which sighed like cum
and were flourished by pretty words
who spent hours to trickle on the paper
simply to say
i loved to feather maps along my arms,
trace patterns along my veins
right until the tattoo turned to red.
crimson isn't a color for the dead,
it's a color for the weak.
it's the color i wore like my skin
every single moment i thought i couldn't change.
perhaps i could sing another tune
about the four walls that caressed me
and held me when the whiskey was too dry.
are you asking for another poem
which reeks with the beat of Pound
or for just an honest line
that can knock your reasons
better than any double act.
i have plenty of sob soaked stories
still bathing back and forth,
but just for today i choose to ignore,
i stop covering my face from all people
the ones who hate me for my brown eyes.
as much as i tried and tried,
the color never changed.
so i'll sit down on my tears
and ride the butterflies
waiting for you to see
it's better to taste something real
rather to sulk in something borrowed.
Author notes
i wrote this while i was in rehabilitation.
Comments
1 - 22 of 22
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Wow such powerful snd smazing piece you've portrayed with your wrods, which are put together so nicely, awesome job.
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"...sulk in something borrowed." I don't see any sulking here, and that's what I love about this. There's not a borrowed phrase - the entirety of this poem shines with originality and a voice that is distinctly your own. There’s no shadows of worn and threadbare cliches or images, in fact, what shines most brightly is your obvious talent as a writer.
Thank you for sharing.
I'll be reading more of your writing, for sure.
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wow, it's been so long since I read one of your poems. I haven't been on for about a month so I have a lot of catching up to do but I'm really happy to see one of your great poems waiting for me. keep up the nice work.
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this is just....wow.
i seem to have lost you on my faves with the switch but i am glad to have found you again.
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Lovely.
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I am a fan of "unborrowing" and "returning" borrowed poetry. What is the point to writing poetry if it has to sound or read like the poems of others who have come before us? Nothing real is gained from that and it keeps the mind in an artistic rut.
I admire this direction you are taking Jane into your own self expression that is not about pleasing others or trying obtain their approval or get their attention but it is about being real.
Your poetic-ness is excellent, so that is not something you will ever have to question. The freshness of your voice is an asset.
I am glad you are back and sharing your writing again.
Bravo.
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good to see you post again
and impressive too
thnak you for sharing this wonderful poem
elaine
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Bonnes fêtes.
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toi aussi, j'espere que tout va pour le mieux en Ontario
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Jane is back!
That's god-damned right. I can totally relate to this piece, and I felt like I was sitting in the chair right next to you, minding my cross-talk. Really great to see some hope behind your words. It looks like rehab was a pretty profound experience. I had not realized that was where you had gone. How comforting it is to hear aspects of one's own hell expressed in the up-close, personal honesty of a complete stranger's different experience. Proves we're all people, afterall.
I've always loved reading your angry/sad stuff, but to convey such intense pain and anger so effectively, you had to feel it even better ... and there is nothing good about that.
This is just as good, but it's a different kind of honest--an unapologetic expression of your larger self. Your words have always been excellent; can't be stressed enough that the operative word is "your," though, can it? I like this. I say good for you for gutting out such a trying experience. Looks like you found a bit more Jane in the vaseline this time. She's been missed. Hope all is well in Canada.
Best,
Morgan
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Gracias Morgan
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wonderful!
I'm sure that there is more behind this poem than I know (or need to know) but I picked up the sense of reality in it that makes it so rich to read.
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pretty powerful stuff. i'm impressed.
well done.
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I love the second to last stanza, which really seems to bring the poem full circle.
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thank you very much, i wasnt all too sure about that stanza, but i'm not one to touch up.
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thank you very much, i wasnt all too sure about that stanza, but i'm not one to touch up.
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BRAVO!
it's a color for the weak.
it's the color i wore like my skin
every single moment i thought i couldn't change.
Oh God...I thought my heart would stop after reading this exquisite piece. I'm speechless...for all the reasons. This is yet another reason why you are so good...for this site, this earth, this pen. You have a brilliance that is sharpened with time and your decisions, and I cannot express how ecstatic I am that you have returned...stronger, better and sulk-free.
I loved this. More than words can possibly say.
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Real is real for us all ... we don't need anyone else's sob stories ... so sing something beautiful so we can be inspired to sing our own pretty songs ... or not ... who cares? We got our own
Merry Christmas & sweet songs for the new year
Me
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hehe yeah, we all got our own, we just need to find the courage to forget about everything else around us and express what we truly wish to express.
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YAY! You're posting again! YAY! I'm so glad to see you back, and if this is any indication of the poetry waiting for us, from you, then I do so with baited breath. I've always been a fan, you know, and this proves why. The words here are raw and honest, and that's the one thing I've always appreciated about your work. You go girl.
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