Day 20 Prompt: White“White has so many connotations, white flag, white hat – hero in the old west movies, white – purity, white – clean, white light, white clouds, and the list could go on. What is the first thing that comes to mind when you think of white? Start from there and write for ten minutes.”
As the stare,
On your pale face,
Wished to tell you the truth but it wasn’t —
Enough; you appeared sickly, tears rolled down.
Anger, pain unrolled,
Exposed your soft,
But I love you,
Does that count for anything or are my —
Sins to severe? Your eyes blink and I hope.
Black eyes so,
Carved face stoic.
Was trying to heal us, bring the truth to light.
Your eyes begin sparkling, what was cold, now’s —
Hands emote and —
Your glad laugh rings.
Distracting beauty forgives; peace of mind.
“Tetracrys [is] a poetic form invented by Ray Stebbing. [It] consists of at least 5 lines of 1, 2, 3, 4, 10 syllables (total of 20). Tetractys can be written with more than one verse, but must follow suit with an inverted syllable count. Tetractys can also bereversed and written 10, 4, 3, 2, 1.
Thanks to K.L. Caley from new2writing for hosting #Maydays prompts. I skipped the prompt about geeking out for now. But am going to write about today’s prompt on friendship. My view in my poem today is that even though friendship is excellent, there are times it is frustrating.
I know all my friends are out,
And I’m stuck inside.
I know we’re true adults now,
I still feel left out.
As if I wasn’t living life,
As if I’ve missed so much to time.
Conversations and memories,
I was never privy too.
Maybe I’ll never grow up,
Maybe a job high up isn’t so vital.
I’m making life up as I go,
It’s the best I can do,
I wish sometimes you understood,
It’s extremely difficult for me sometimes,
Not only dealing with what life throws at you,
But trying to work through problems,
Going through a veil, more like a brick wall —
Cancer is killing my friend,
I don’t know if she knows,
How wonderful a friend she is to me,
And I don’t know why but she always,
Floods the room with her beautiful light.
She has cancer and yet,
Her energy level is much better than mine.
I don’t know how to make my best friends understand,
They do, but sometimes,
They don’t see anything at all.
Two hours in, needing to sit down and not move,
Having eaten two pieces of cake,
One I shouldn’t have eaten.
Brought the hostess wine,
Do all the right things to be a gracious guest.
But rarely, do I feel ‘in’ on all the things going on.
I don’t know that feeling anymore,
I’m used to friends talking around me,
My mind fading in and out.
I try to pay attention, all the hours I’m out,
Don’t treat me as a child, like I can’t handle life.
Like I can’t handle honest words and your normal lives,
Mental illness is a bitch and people have little thought,
Of what you’re working past.
People may think things,
At this point I assume my besties understand my battle,
But maybe they don’t understand?
Maybe it’s still a disease people feel uncomfortable about,
Because they’re grown up into adults with jobs.
They have kids and careers,
They’ve the normal life.
I’m at home after years, fighting to have energy,
Writing writing, who picks that as a career?
But my dreams live and drive me forward.
No matter if my story is polished and presentable,
I make myself impeccable.
Nice hair and makeup,
Cute clothes for my size,
Trying to be thin, like most of them,
Pretty as them, but more width to my hips.
Striving for someone to take interest in me,
Not feel I’m doing nothing with my life,
Ask questions about me and be curious,
Just as I am curious about your life.
Don’t talk over me,
I know you all have your own fights,
Cancer the biggest I believe right now.
I wish because of it, you’d understand me more too.
I’m launching myself forward,
But I must move to a slower pace.
I don’t want to lose my best friends,
I don’t want to be the only one who feels,
We need to stay in touch.
An attractive guy would be nice,
A listener, a toucher, a hockey game lover.
I’d love a dog and our own condo,
No debt, and the ability to exercise well.
All these things I want,
With boundless energy,
No more worry about what my friends think of my illness.
Just like them, normal.
I want safety in his touch,
Seeking closeness with him and equality.
Connected to me, he’s not half-treating me,
As of I’m forever a spoiled kid,
Just because I need a ride.
Because I’m not well enough to drive.
Themes that under lie my life at times,
Girls looking above me, raising their noses,
Not knowing I fly in stars and midnight showers of rain.
“Hey girly. Such a good girl. How about a belly rub? Last one for a few months, I’ve got to go fight some bad guys. Seems as if there is an unending supply of them. That’s life, eh Emmie?” my Dad Dylan says.
Then, he kisses my Mom Kristine.” It’s going to be alright, Kristy. You know how well we’re trained for these missions. I’ll be back in a few months sweetheart. Email me, you can write me an old-fashioned letter even.”Dylan remarks soothing Kristine.
“What if this is the time . . . I never see you again, and it’s only Emmie and I? I’ve only had five-years with you. It’s not enough.”
Dylan hugs Kristine tight and they both cry. I feel their sadness and cuddle between them to comfort us all. I whimper and I lick their salty hands.
“Emmie, you sucky girl. I’ll be home before you know it,” Dylan tells me giving me one last pet and kissing Kristine hard.
“Don’t go Dad, don’t leave us. Mom’s sad, I don’t want her to be sad. You didn’t walk me today. Mom will be too sad to walk me….” I yap to Dylan. But he leaves.
Ages pass before I hear Dylan whistle. I bark in delight; he came home.