Posts Tagged ‘cliche’

One Feeding

and if I dare dream

let it include the facts—

the bite, the open hand

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Carry on, the woman bolstered me.
I thought of all the things I try to carry—
thanked her. Then surprised, I disagreed.

Why carry troubles, haul a life’s debris
as if I were a barge, a human ferry?
Carry on, the woman bolstered me.

I took her words as blessing, certainly—
a benediction, kind and customary,
but thinking more about it, disagreed.

I felt the lifelong weight of all I cleave to—
convictions, hopes, and moods both blithe and scary
Carry on, the woman bolstered me.

Imagine if I dropped the weight, was freed
from the heroic self that makes me weary.
Her words were kind, but should I disagree?

Part of me clings to that belief—
that I must carry on, though spent, though teary.
Carry on, the woman bolstered me.
But must I? Part of me does not agree.


Hi friends, for kicks, this poem is written in an old French form, the villanelle. You can read all about its history and how to write one here

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the elephant in the room—

giving him

the finest seat

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I’ve Got $1.41

A penny for your dreams—

they’re as curious as thoughts.

A nickel for your laughter

if it comes out of the box.

A dime for your happiness

if you’ll share it with me.

A quarter for your apple

if it falls far from the tree.

A dollar for your love,

but only time will whisper

if it’s money down the drain

or a happy ever after.

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All these years
I thought I might be
the one who had opened
the can. Such surprise
to find I am one
of the worms.

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The spilled milk?
I am not crying.

This is me kneeling
on the gray stone tile

to lap up the puddle
the way a grown woman

should never do.
It may be a mess,

but it’s not spoiled yet
and I’m thirsty enough

to lower myself,
and look, how the cup

is still half full.

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