on campus
so many young
and beautiful students
and here I am
still feeling like I did
when I was young
and beautiful
not knowing it then
or believing it now
realizing that I
look at myself
with a self-loathing
that’s so very sad
walking around
each heavy step
or hard breath
echoes
I hate you
I hate you
I hate you
More often than not, been finding myself in a constant battle of self doubt. I definitely forgot to post this on Monday 🤦♀️ was a busy weekend! Happy Thursday, all!
the dog is hurting
take to surgeon, cost of leg
walking, maybe not
Our Koda bear is at the vet right now, getting a sedated Xray to see the extent of a CCL tear in his right knee. It’s difficult when your dog is hurt. 😞 😢
having two dogs
is like
having a furry entourage
they will follow you
everywhere
except
it’s less about your support
or being an escort
and more like
how much
they need you desperately
why don’t we talk about
how
many girls
won’t discover
who they are
until they’ve become women
all that is said that ever was
thinking about it just because
and all the stuff I cannot change
the unimportant or really strange
it’s drifting by like rolled-up news
it’s dirty gray and overused
the stuff that hasn’t happened yet
recycled things I can’t forget
gray sky is empty
full of snow or pollution
garbage beginning
Hi all, no poetry from me this week because I spent most of my Monday in the Emergency Room.
Everything is okay, but at the time my face and arm was going numb, so that was less okay. I have a muscle strain in my right shoulder that makes me feel like there is an icy-hot poker stabbing at me. That is, when I’m not taking pain meds. Oh, and I have been getting muscle spasms in my neck, too. Fun times.
So, nothing creative from me this week. Or, maybe there is…
Monday in the ER
shoulder hurt, stabbing
pit stop, pit crew, she dying?
safe. home with pain meds
OR
my arm and neck numb
not dying. feel kind of dumb
remember: ergonomic
Ahhh…I could go on and on with the haikus. At least the dogs cuddled me at the end of the night. Showing their love, as doggies do. One big, giant, doggy pile.
January has just been one big suck-fest. Anyone with me?
I have a poem I’ve been working on, but instead of coming together like things usually do, pulling the words out for this one is like trying to pull blood from a stone.
I am on the struggle bus. Physically. Mentally. Creatively. I long for sunny days. And warmth.
I hope everyone else is doing better than me. If you’ve kept up with this blog and my poetry book, you’ll know that Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) hits me big every year. This past month, more so than others.
I take comfort in my light therapy, friends, comedy, and the dogs.
I don’t have anything creative for you today. I’m sorry. But here’s a few dog pics, because dogs are awesome and cute. Bowl is life. ❤️😆 love them. (The chocolate is Koda; the golden, Teddy.)
Whose yard is this? The dogs. (I know)
They both like it covered with snow
And lake-like puddles on the ground
And squishy grass that’s hard to mow
They will chew their sticks to the sound
Of wind blowing their ears around
With snow that bites with winter’s chill
They chew, oh — another stick found!
And the dogs always get a thrill
Smelling bunnies and things to kill
Noses to the ground, at my side
They sniff until the world grows still
The yard is icy, cold and wide
And I continue to abide
Please, it is time to go inside
Please, it is time to go inside
This poem is inspired by Robert Frost’s Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening, but obviously with a less serious and sillier theme. I had the pattern of this poem in my head while out walking the dog one evening and I thought it might be fun to play around.
Wishing everyone a meaningful Martin Luther King Jr. Day.
If you’ve liked what you’ve read, check out my poetry book, Walking in Cemeteries available for purchase here.
Every month, a woman sheds the lining of her uterus
Except, mine is scraping through me
like a sweater-rake that claws at those scratchy balls of wool
I’m shedding barbed wire and lava
Feeling red hot and deflated
Men laugh at a woman’s period
Think we’re over-exaggerating
Like that small-pinched-lie you’re told you’ll feel during a procedure
Why can’t we be honest about a woman’s pain
A woman feels pain as easy as a man succeeds
In this patriarchal society
Where a woman just bleeds
And bleeds
And bleeds
If you’ve liked what you’ve read, check out my poetry book Walking in Cemeteries available for purchase here.
A. J. Morse 