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#OctPoWriMo Day 16/Tale Weavers: Poem – Free Verse – “Me Too” #amwriting #poetry #taleweavers


Thanks to Michael of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting the Tale Weavers prompt on circles or wheels in life. For OctPoWriMo Day 16 with a prompt on tears and fears.

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Carli Jeen via Unsplash

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I didn’t mean to break the teacup, 

I didn’t know it was so sacred. 

That porcelain so fine,

Meant to last generations, 

Passed down from mother —

To daughter. 

But Great Gran hated her China pattern, 

It wasn’t to her taste; 

It wasn’t used, 

At each meal for supper; 

It would’ve shattered,

Much sooner then. 

Great Gran knew like people, 

China is delicate, 

Especially if it’s shatters, 

And re-pieced. 

And you can’t possibly tell me, 

Fragility is permanent. 

That those who are broken, 

Remain that way, 

Once you break someone,
They’re never whole again;
They’ll heal and they’ll form, 

White scars gleaming.

But you cannot make anew,

What must be glued together;

Fragment by fragment. 

You can’t expect it to maintain, 

Indelible strength.

You don’t know what defines beauty, 

True beauty is brokenness. 

That those not in their entirety,

Are destined to chip and crack. 

Perhaps their outer designs and artistry,

Masks their flaws. 

But fault lines are visible, 

Places one could dig deep, 

Exploiting pains throbbing echo, 

Across generations, 

And unwanted China. 

You’d think we’d be afraid of shattering,

We’re all terrified until we find,

Someone to help us, 

Someone who doesn’t see the cracks. 

Love blinds us in many ways,

Some that hurt, 

Some that heal and bind wounds. 

It’s a cycle, a circle, 

Despair and rapture, 

Too much or too little.

And I think Great Gran, 

Would’ve smiled, 

Seeing your beloved teacup scatter; 

It’s just a cup, 

One she despised. 

For she wanted a reality for us,

Beyond teacups, of lady’s serving tea;

She didn’t want our suffrage,

Our call to feminism,

To remain at the price,

Of “me too,” where —

Every woman,

Has had a close call,

Not one she wanted; 

A narrow escape,

Or a constant nightmare, 

Where pleas meant nothing.

“Me too,” she would say, 

Staring with disgust, 

At a patterned teacup, 

China gifted from the husband,

Who perpetually, 

Reminded her of wifely duties, 

With or without, 

Her blessing or consent. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

100 Word Wednesdays, Flash Fiction, Free Verse, History, My Thoughts, Poetry, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

100 Word Wednesday: Poem – Free Verse – “Wings Broken” #amwriting #100WordWednesday #flashfiction #poetry 


Thanks to Bikurgurl for hosting this edition of #100WordWednesday. 

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Credit: Bikurgurl

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She valued it, 

Above all. 

Elaborate China, 

Not pretty or delicate. 

Gaudy-patterned, 

Indigo Wedgewood. 

Peach, gray flowers. 

Frail bone China, 

No value to him. 

Displayed in a cabinet. 

Pieces and —

Place settings, 

Gifted for —

Wedding presents. 

She dusted them,

Each week.  

Paid him no mind, 

Humming hymns. 

Ignored him when, 

He talked. 

She never used to, 

She’d laugh, 

Join in. 

And when they, 

Used the China, 

At Easter, 

Designs of indigo, peach —

Made him sick. 

Dizzying, he wanted to —

Wretch. 

Just as when , 

He saw her, 

With him. 

The one she said, 

She’d forgotten. 

Accepted he’d married, 

Moved on.

But his aftershave, 

On her skin, 

Made him ill,

So he stood, 

Starring at the China, 

She’d taken out, 

To clean. 

Piece by piece, 

It hit the wall, 

Smashing, crashing. 

Splinters of it, 

Drawing blood. 

Until shards of, 

Tacky dinnerware, 

Only remained. 

She screamed, 

Wounded like a fledging, 

Who fell, 

For the first time, 

And couldn’t arise, 

Never again, 

Wings broken. 

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved