The Pink Pills Make Me the Happiest


Please believe me, I do mean SHORT. I am cheating today and posting a few pieces that I wrote for a Creative Writing course in 2008. I am still working on page 2 of the memoir, 1,460 Days Before Today, and I hope to have that up in the morning. It’s cold here and I think my brain is having trouble warming up. Hence, the “cheat” of not writing anything new today. 🙂

Also, WP hates me today and after two hours of formatting hell, I gave up. Please excuse the extra spacing and general piss poor formatting. I was ready to throw my laptop across the room so I am leaving it as the WP Gods deem necessary. Plus, I couldn’t add a copyright tag to each one so please, just don’t steal my mediocre stuff.

Where I’m From

I am from bronze skin and hazel eyes
sharing the arch of Nanny’s brow
laughter, silliness, friend to all
spoiled, mouthy, always entertaining
I am from a boy that grew
while my head was turned the other way.

I am from a tiny heart
and tiny lungs with paper thin skin
a body that fit into my hand
with a cry that I never heard
a lifetime compacted into twenty four days
gone before I knew who he might be.

I am from a hope that I held
in the deep corners of my mind.
chocolate skin, ebony hair and
almond shaped mocha eyes.
tender hearted, stubborn, full of fire
a doodlebug, a mama’s boy.

I am from the existence
of three pieces of my soul.  

 Living With Regret

Regret snuggles in my bed
under the chocolate comforter
securely holding our story
a haven for two
being anything but
secure.

Regret stretches on my couch
atop the fabric of glittery gold
humoring me with familiar jokes
meant only for us
being anything but
humorous.

Regret relaxes at the table
centered in sunflower scenes
delighting in tempting aromas
exclusive meals for two
being anything but
delightful.

Regret peers from the mirror
attached to the periwinkle paint
hoping to erase the chapters
new roles for us
being anything but
hopeful.

Hero

He said with
such conviction that
I was a
hero
but I think
He got it all wrong.

He should have
been the hero
not waiting for a miracle
should have known
how to save the
soul
whose life fit
inside my palm.

There were no heroics
in that sterile room
quiet except
for the continuous beeping
a sound that grew
still
as heartbeats faded
off to sleep.

He knelt before
the rocking chair
gently calling
the time of death
I was a hero, He said.

I am his
Mother.

The Magician

He waves his wand
to an audience of one

his tricks as obvious as
a worn out toupee
yet, in his hands
the familiar is unknown.

Routine tricks

a rabbit in the hat

a lady who’s been

sawed in half

the disappearing act

always comes next.

She watches skeptically
having seen this before

secretly yearning to believe
that his performance
will mystify and his tricks
will be magic.

Makin’ Me Laugh

Laughin from my core

-smile hurtin face

comin from my stomach

deep and boomin

a burst of repression

Tears leakin from my eyes

-blue and shinin

watchin you do that

silly dancin that makes

me beg for more

Achin in my stomach

-bent up double

listenin to your jokes

never get tired

of hearin ‘em again.

© 01.13.11 – Margie Bryant. All rights reserved.

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Comments on: "And Now, A Short Poetry Break" (7)

  1. Very nice, Margie!! Good stretch of poetic muscles. Keep it up.

  2. Hero is so very touching. It’s my favorite. You are so talented.

  3. cleveland05 said:

    Margie….I thoroughly enjoyed reading your poetry and honestly don’t think I can pick a favorite. I enjoyed the rhythm and imagery very much. Looking forward to reading more.

    • Thank you! Like I said, I felt like I was cheating yesterday because I had nothing new to say.

  4. Oh-so-very lovely words! Thanks so much for sharing them. Poetry always makes me long for cozy, rainy days. Cliche? Maybe. But true! 🙂

    • For some reason, WordPress put your comment in spam. Why does WP hate you? 🙂 Thanks for reading and leaving kind words. Your blog inspires me to write better.

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