Merry Christmas, one and all!!
From www.textfixer.com
I apologise in advance: my subject matter is not jolly, nor is it palatable to many! With the words I got today, a pretty gloomy poem came out. That’s the way of the crumbly cookie… I do not advocate animal cruelty in real life, of course, it’s all metaphorical!
Today has been spent in a haze of presents and good food. My husband gave me In The Palm Of Your Hand: The Poet’s Portable Workshop by Steve Kowit, too, so I shall have fun looking through that over the coming months to see if there are any poetical challenges I want to share with you all!
Our boys got me a lovely necklace that says ‘Love You Mum’ on it, and a colouring book about motherhood to boot! That will go well with the lovely pack of gel pens my brother-in-law got me *rubs hands together in glee* The best part was when the boys beamed at me and gave me hugs that knocked me into the back of my comfy chair. Boy cuddles are wonderful!!
My green scrawl!
For all the jollity of the season, however, there are many who still feel isolated and trapped within themselves. No matter what their social calendar may boast, the date does not mean an end to grappling personal demons. This throws up feelings of guilt and annoyance, as one is meant to be revelling in the get-togethers and looking forward to a fresh new year. It would be all too easy, when faced with these feelings, to convince oneself that there is some sort of defect in one’s character; a huge space where something is missing, or a malignant part of one’s physical make-up somewhere.
This is what sprung to mind when I read ‘cavity’ and ‘conqueror’, followed by ‘disgusting’. I struggled, at first, with how to fit in the ‘deer’…!
Cavity Conqueror Disgusting Bone Ideal Deer Love Drown Hand
I carry around this cavity,
Hoping one day to be its conqueror
For I find it disgusting;
Like some affliction at bone level.
(Never an ideal state)
I long to mount it,
Like a tangible head of deer,
Upon my wall of love.
Say: “I shot that in 2016!
Made it fall into a lake
And drown.
Then I decapitated it
With my dominant hand…”
As I said, not conventionally Christmassy (think how poor Rudolph would feel, reading that!) but there are parts of it I like.
Can we ever be truly dominant if we feel we have to kill or maim a part of ourselves just to be normal/accepted/loved?
Ok, over to you…
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