Posts Tagged ‘unloved’

Suspending Disbelief, Because Maybe We All Hurt: Revolutionary ImproVerse Free Verse Response Poetry

February 22, 2013

A friend forwarded this video poem to me:
and said it brought back painful childhood memories.
This is my response, not so much to the poem, as to her pain:

a cheerleader beauty,
now loved mother/Nana,
saw a poem about
a Fatboy ,
an ugly girl,
a popper,
and she claimed
it brought back pains
and bad
and sad
childhood memories.

As I listened,
I doubted,
and wondered,
and thought “Nobody ever called her
pizza face
or melon head
or pork chop
or chicken legs
or dogface”.

And she never had anyone
she loved
and trusted tell her:
“I love you as my child,
i hate you as a person.”
“How can God love you?
You are so evil.”

But then I realized:
How would I know?
Can I deny her pain?
Can I feel
her heart?
Or read
her soul
that may,
to this day,

With her memories,
made me
realize this truth:
I don’t know the burden
or the ache
or the lonely
that’s hidden
inside of any

But if it sucks as bad
as mine did,
and sometimes
still does;
if it rips them apart
and bares them open
as much as mine did
and, too often,
still does,
let me promise
here and now
with all my being
and heart
and soul,
with tears flowing,
and empathy growing,
that I will NEVER assume
that someone was
or is
without pain
in their lives,
and I will NEVER be
the reason
to add
to that ache.

please, God,
help me
to be the eraser,
to remove some of that internal,
and bring some joy
into their lives.

Because I don’t know.
I really don’t know.
I just don’t know.


Weeping Lonely Again: Revolutionary ConTEXTing Haiku Lament

July 12, 2012

I weep again not /
with Godly sorrow but from /
knowing loneliness.

Remember The Lamb: Revolutionary Iambic Poetry

November 19, 2010

Before I went,
I gave you a present,
Because I knew,
You’d sometimes feel blue.

People would make you tired,
feeling no good,
and misunderstood.

You’d feel frustrated,

It’s hard being lonely,
By yourself only,
Taken advantage of;
Unable to be loved;
With no real home.

At times like these
I beg you please,
To not think it silly
To consider the Lily,
and think on the gift I gave;

Remember He who will save,
and think on who
Is the true I am.
You’ll always have the Lamb.