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Open Poetry #41
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My Weeble
| Open Poetry #41 |
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My Weeble |
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Winter Butterfly Member
since 2007-02-03
Posts 61The hidden path beyond the ivy gate. 
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Weebles wobble but they don’t fall down, the tune plays over and over Dancing like a man on fire through my head Tripping like a drunken sailor over my lips Except sometimes when they grow old and bruised by over use They do Her feet the size of small grapefruits swollen with the fluids of one who’s given up Forgetting how to laugh Giving her will to sloth Weebles wobble but they don’t fall down, the tune plays over and over Blurring my focus Vivid glare over my thoughts Except sometimes when they grow old and bruised by over use They do Her thighs are great tree trunks, refusing to be other than a lap Television equals life Remote rests under hand Weebles wobble but they don’t fall down, the tune plays over and over Soft and haunting Loud and furious Except sometimes when they grow old and bruised by over use They do I watch her kill herself slowly and fight the urge to scream Candy in one hand Ice cream in the other Weebles wobble but they don’t fall down, the tune plays over and over Breaking my heart Crushing against soul Except sometimes when they grow old and bruised by over use They do Cancels another doctor’s appointment after sixty minutes spent to get her shoes on Says she’s too tired from the exertion All she did was stand up and walk three feet Weebles wobble but they don’t fall down, the tune plays over and over Tensing body Wracking mind Except sometimes when they grow old and bruised by over use They do Self-pity abounds as she says it’s her life she can do what she wants She’s earned her right to do nothing As her urine seeps into chair Weebles wobble but they don’t fall down, the tune plays over and over I hate the disgust I feel for her I want the woman I knew back Except sometimes when they grow old and bruised by over use They do Sometimes I remember who she used to be, she thrived on life and taught me to be strong We used to play games Read on a summer lit porch Weebles wobble but they don’t fall down, the tune plays over and over Hand aching to write Purge myself of the jingle Except sometimes when they grow old and bruised by over use They do What is she waiting for, why not just let go, I want to scream at her time and time again Her spirit is already gone The body exists but an empty shell Weebles wobble but they don’t fall down, the tune plays over and over Grinding into the reserves of my attention I have no idea what I’m doing in class today Except sometimes when they grow old and bruised by over use They do She’s been forgotten by four children and buried three as well as her husband She gave birth to thirteen Took in her grandchildren when they had no one Weebles wobble but they don’t fall down, the tune plays over and over She reminds me of a weeble as she walks Hands up, palms outward at her sides for balance Except sometimes when they grow old and bruised by over use They do I don’t ever want to be a weeble |
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| © Copyright 2007 nlw - All Rights Reserved | |||
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ThisDiamond Member Rara Avis
since 2002-02-22
Posts 9353Michigan, USA |
I had read this piercing piece over many times, before I could actually formulate the words my heart made. So very difficult to want for someone else, more than they want for themselves. You wrote this exquisitely. |
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passing shadows Member Empyrean
since 1999-08-26
Posts 45577displaced |
sis, you know I saw this the other night and meant to keep it to my library I always love what you write thanks for the childhood memory that you have brought back to me, a precious one, of those little webbles I spent many hours with |
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passing shadows Member Empyrean
since 1999-08-26
Posts 45577displaced |
p.s. love the new pic too  |
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Winter Butterfly Member
since 2007-02-03
Posts 61The hidden path beyond the ivy gate. |
Thank you Diamond. It's been two years and everyday get harder to take care of her. I wish I were a better person but I've gotten to the point of avoidance whenever possible. I give her serving sizes and attempt to feed her healthier foods but, then she screams that I'm starving her. Sis very glad you picture a little on the angelic side for me most days though. > Your welcome for the memory, I don't think I ever played with them, too busy being "all grown up" for the sake of my sisters but I bought a bunch of them for my nephew who loves them. "I used to worry what people thought of me, then I broke through my cacoon" |
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Susan Caldwell Member Rara Avis
since 2002-12-27
Posts 8348Florida |
I sincerely hope you know just how good this piece is... TD said "piercing" and I agree.. This kind of pain is hard enough to live and watch let alone write... bravo. "too bad ignorance isn't painful" |
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passing shadows Member Empyrean
since 1999-08-26
Posts 45577displaced |
love you girl   |
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passing shadows Member Empyrean
since 1999-08-26
Posts 45577displaced |
and sis...listen to Susan here...she knows her poetry!  |
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Winter Butterfly Member
since 2007-02-03
Posts 61The hidden path beyond the ivy gate. |
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Susan Caldwell Member Rara Avis
since 2002-12-27
Posts 8348Florida |
I got the connection before I posted a reply. The poem is outstanding, in my opinion. I do not know poetry, I just read and attempt to write, but I don't lie either..so you get my honest opinion. I look forward to more.  "too bad ignorance isn't painful" |
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aziza Member Elite
since 2006-07-09
Posts 2995Lumpy Oatmeal makes me Crazy! |
This is totally amazing There is so much power so much sadness and I can feel the anger turn to resignation I am so glad that I read your poem. Alison |
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