Tiny little birdie,
Fallen from the elder tree.
Oh, come and see!
The little bird,
The dog just found,
Beneath the tree.
Tiny little birdie,
Go fly away! Be free!
Tiny little fishy,
Caught from the shiny sea.
Oh, come and see!
The little fish,
The boy just pulled,
Out of the sea.
Not so tiny fishy,
You were quite delishy.
You never once,
Raised your voice to me.
Never belittled me,
Nor humiliated,
Nor hit me.
You never even seemed to get angry.
It sounds wonderful, doesn’t it?
After ten years with an abuser,
I should be thrilled,
To never get yelled at,
Nor controlled.
But, you were the opposite,
Swing of the pendulum.
He was possessive.
You were simply unconcerned.
Devoid of all passion.
And despite all pain he gave me,
It was still better,
Than your indifference.
It lingers in this house.
Crouching in the dark corners.
Lurking behind that place,
You patched on the wall,
Where she tore off a chunk.
Her shadow moved into that hole.
There it lives,
And it stares at me,
From behind the plaster.
Mocking and reminding me,
That she was here before.
He said he wants to take me dancing one day.
But I cannot. Not now. Maybe not ever.
My left leg bears evidence of a stupid mistake,
That has left me maimed. Crippled for life.
When I see his warm hazel eyes looking at me,
My own blue eyes seem dull and insipid.
When I see his broad shoulders,
And he holds me in his well-muscled arms,
I’m left wondering why and how,
Could such a beautiful man possibly,
Want a soft, dull cripple such as me?
And yet, he loves me more than anyone ever has.
Makes love to me like an uncaged beast.
I want to be the woman he deserves.
The most beautiful woman on earth.
Maybe that’s what he thinks I already am,
But I can’t help but feel unworthy.
I keep waiting for the spell to wear off.
That one day he’ll wake up and suddenly notice,
The beautiful desirable woman he used to love,
Has been replaced by me.
By now I’m sure that you have heard,
I’ve got a certain way with words.
But these sensations. These emotions,
Can just be felt, but never spoken.
Such words as love and joy and bliss.
They do come close, but still they miss.
That space you filled inside my heart,
With just the right-sized missing part.
That feeling cannot be proclaimed.
It’s far too big to have a name.
I never disappeared.
But over the years,
I became invisible to you.
Gradually fading until,
I was barely detectable.
You’d rarely notice,
If I wasn’t there.
Then, one day…
You could no longer see me.
I was just a shadow.
Background radiation,
With a human-shaped form.
Little busy bee,
Buzzes busily round,
My laundry line.
No time to mind,
Her beesiness.
She’s too interested,
In mine.
Common Sense needs exercise,
A turn in the fresh air.
Don’t drive your car,
Over a bridge,
Sat Nav said wasn’t there.
Common Sense has gotten weak,
And needs a good work out.
Please smell that food,
That’s past its date,
Before you throw it out.
It used to be our best defense,
Our natural built-in Common Sense.
Now it’s something we ignore,
And it’s not so common any more.
It may not yet be spring time,
But the sun shines on the clothes line.
Just five degrees, but a gentle breeze,
With clean laundry bouquet,
Dries off my clothes, and gently blows,
The winter time away.
I once wrote down a poem about a cat.
Though, now I can’t recall that much of it.
Nor do I know exactly where it’s at.
T’would be nice to remember just a bit.
It was a sonnet, Shakespeare’s preferred form.
Those twelve iambic lines of pentameter.
Capped with a rhyming couplet, as the norm.
To delight and to charm the gentle reader.
When I was seventeen, I wrote it down.
A high school lass with still a lot to learn.
With little on my mind but my prom gown.
T’was then the poet’s flame began to burn.
I wish would have left myself a note.
For that was the first poem I ever wrote.
Random Misanthrope 