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More from *Merely-Mere

A Woman RoaringAltered by an alternative I had never thought possible.
At twenty-two, I realize my role models have crumbled under abuse, loyalty.
More often then not, I'm left with the idea that I should just suffer in silence.
"It's what we're built for.
It's what we've learned."
As soon as I feel safe, I'm knocked down by someone unyielding.
With no support, my jagged spine sinks further down then before.
"Why be so difficult?
Why be so opinionated?"
I'm not. I'm neither. I am sure.
With my certainty I cause waves.
I have no place. I am no doormat. I will not keep quiet.
The temple I occupy is not easy to conquer.
I will sing freely. I will perch quietly
Second BestSecond best in a race
That never started.
Left in the dust
When the chase wasn't treasured.
A leisure never quite pleasured.
Because no one stayed long enough.
Wanted to measure the worth
In a love that's forever.
It's a gift that all of us say we want
But only a few achieve
Not because it's few
And far between
But because
We only speak of what we need
And never of our empty
Dead desires
Unseen ThingsThe highest tip of a buck's antler.
The edge of a cub's left claw.
The crest of a hare's perked ear.
All so insignificant.
So minute.
So small.

First glances lead to these judgements.
Never give them a second thought.

Yet,
Without the tip,
The edge,
The crest
Neither deer,
Nor bear,
Nor rabbit
Are whole.

What is a buck without it's point?
What is a cub without it's climb?
What is a hare without it's sound?

Greed
And selfishness
Forever blinding
Causing simple attributes to go unnoticed.

Simple
But important
And nothing short of beautiful.

These ordinary things hold worth.
These unseen things complete a life.
Luna's LightA creature with eyes in her knuckles.
Brain full of knowledge seeping like porridge.
Her womb aches like an anchor cutting through the ocean.
Knees built to bend but only crack.
Her emotions are as soft
And fragile
As the red
And pink marks
That plague her body.
The tell tale signs of growth
And movement.
She purges her worries through her lips.
Stretched, scarred, pulled
And separated.
Marinated in the sun too little
And the moon too long.
She's those empty statements that are often left forgotten
And she's what common violence has crafted.
A checkered flag waiting on a winner
Sinner
To wave their white flag.
All her roses are clipped.
All t
Cracked BottleCracked bottle.
Full of spite.
Breaking.
Separating.
Animosity seeping.
Removed composure.
A tea kettle steaming.
Rage to the Nth degree.
Nowhere to place it.
A ticking time bomb.
No way to face this.
Reflect.
Reflexes.
Staggered conversations.
Impossible to dismay.
Fizzled.
Frazzled.
And there it lays.
Shattered glass.
Permanently stained.
FatherMy father is not a man of many words.
When he does speak, as my brother put it, his words can move mountains.
But no one ever moved mountains by behaving.
And by breaking the rules, you also must break some hearts.

My father is unlike anyone I have ever known.
His comfort zone is a broken voice box.
For once I wish he'd just let his wisdom flow.
Etched in the corners of his mind are the words "no news is good news."

My father's view on life is what influenced me in my own beliefs.
He's a simple man living a simple life with which he enjoys.
A man of reason, he stays clear of throwing stones.
The quote he lives by, "to each their own."

My f

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April 8, 2009
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