Poem

GHOST by MwsR, a ghost’s Perspective

I’m such a clever ghost

I wait and listen to see who comes in

Before I start my ghosting again.

The many conversations that I hear

You would not believe me

It creates a sort of entertainment, you see.

Knowing things that are better left unsaid

Listening to that, inside of this head.

Being a ghost isn’t all it is cracked up to be

Noone comes and visits me

Noone wishes me a good day

Sometimes I want to lay

I never get a break

Not even a second or two

The forces that push me often ensue

I eat nothing

Feel almost the same

I can’t even remember my name.

I often float right through doors

I lavitate above floors.

My instincts provide me with a drive

I don’t need to over emphasize

I’m scary, all of my own accord

People often see me when they are bored.

I have no control over days or months

I just go through somehow, call it a hunch.

Paying no attention to ghost busters

I often even make them very flustered

They think they can control me

Ha, not even I do that, you see

My purpose in being is to strike up your imagination

To go throughout this nation

And create chance meetings

Provoke enlighted greetings

Not to mane you or take over you

That is not at all what I do

You’ll see me when the lights dim low

In a shadow

You might even hear my rustling through things

Just never really know what I’ll bring

Look for me

Maybe say “Hello”

You’ll never really know me though.

I haunt, I float, I hover, and even stay remote.

A ghost of a ghost, a clever one at that.

Don’t forget the welcome mat.

Nothing really stays where they are not welcomed.

Unless, you ask them to.

That is what a person’s imagination will do.

POEM

Lazy, by MwsR

Frustrated at today’s energy

I am trying hard to resist the urge to crash

Not enough coffee for today’s tasks

Seeping through the cracks

The things I most wanted to do

Listen to the babble people are starting to spew.

Did you this, did I that

I feel that my head will split in half to accomadate

Someone help me focus before it is too late.

Waiting for relief

Managing my exhales from my mouth

The only task I have actually not sent south.

Life has captured my enthusiasm for work today

It left me helpless,

Vulnerable as I am worthless .

Lazy and slack

Without urgency or an upmost appointment

Ever had this type of moment?

Poem

Sometimes actions you do hurt others…Sometimes you take away a person’s ability to trust again or be themselves again. In all seriousness…

Actions and words not only impact you…but others.

Who’s using Who…by MwsR

You think you were the one who needed attention and got it…

But that’s not entirely true

It’s wasn’t just you.

Making someone think they mattered a whole lot

I think that’s cruel

But there are no rules.

When you use someone to make sure they understand

That you’re not sincere

Because you might be the one that gets hurt, dear.

Believing everything someone says to you

Is not smart

Take it with a grain of salt, listen not only to your heart.

Sometimes we get used by others to feel a need for them

It’s not a deliberate cruelty

More like “stuff happens” reality.

People change as they often do

Leaving us to guess…

Who’s using who?

Poem

Sadness. By MwsR

Too much because of too little

A lot because of feelings.

Time is too late because the heart was too fake

Endless because it has overflowed the soul.

Infinite it will remain.

Without warning, it climbed onto your very life

Taking under its self, the only escape.

Parched are your eyes from losing too many tears while seeing so clearly.

If bandaids could cover one’s inner hurts.

Desperately anguish survives

To merely show one of what hold that it has on them

Breaking anything that gets in its path

It will not waiver from its wrath.

To simply exist is its special torture.

Longing becomes survival

Survival just means to be here or there

Nothing really to gaze upon and understand

Imaginatively giving you it’s a reprimand.

One chance, backed into a corner

Frantic for escape

When this sadness is the captor.

Sadness will have the upper hand.

Poem( domestic violence)

Poem for …domestic violence awareness month…by MwsR-me

SOMEWHERE

Somewhere someone fights

Experiences painful nights

Somewhere in the inside of homes

People experience hurtfulness and moans

Somewhere there is little comfort

Feelings of terror they exhort

Somewhere someone once was joyful

Now that has turned to sorrowful

Somewhere in the middle of our busy days

Someone is feeling betrayed

Somewhere while we are safe

Another person hides their face

If only we could do something for them

We can.

Somewhere there is hope.

Somewhere is better than nowhere.

Help those you can.

Stand up and take a stand.

Don’t forget about any “man”.

Blue~ Embarrassed

This day started as most ordinary days did. It was Saturday and Blue was home and outside. She loved the outdoors and it was perfectly sunny and warm. She had been busy gathering rocks that were all white in color. They had a graveled driveway and she loved finding the rocks that were white in color. She pretended that they were special and rare and worth a lot of money. Something though was different today. Today Blue was thinking about things. She was thinking about having to grow up. Here was some of what was on her mind.

As Blue reached her teenage years, she felt awkward in her own skin. She very much wanted to stay young at heart and do the young girl thing. She had noticed though that her friends were changing. They all were putting down their dolls and toys and acting different. She did not want to give up her dolls or her toys. She did not want to grown up too fast. She enjoyed the freedom of expression and fun that came with being young. No one expected her to now grown up things and she did not have even the slightest interest in grown up things. Why did things have to change? Why couldn’t she stay young for a long time?

Among things that started to change was her appearance. Her body was changing and it was changing without her permission. She saw things about herself that she did not fully comprehend. She saw her size changing. She noticed that her clothes were fitting differently. When she looked in the mirror she saw that she had hips and thighs. She had never even noticed such things before. She was also getting a grown woman’s chest. She did not like wearing bras. They were uncomfortable. She had been wearing them for sometime now. The kind that makes a young girl look smother in her blouses. The ones that people called training bras. Her mother told her to stay modest. So her mother had bought her a pack of three training bras to wear. Blue was really not into this whole growing up thing. She wanted to stay little.

About middle school age Blue was doing school P.E., she was playing sports and was required to change in the locker rooms. She hated this. There was a simple shower curtain in each shower. They were required to go into the shower unit, with others, and change into their P.E. clothes. Later after P.E. was over, they had to do the same thing again. This was very embarrassing for some of the girls an Blue felt that too. She often found herself in the shower unit changing and someone would go in or out of it and leave her exposed while changing. Sometimes there was some other girl looking for a peep of what was going on. Not because they were really interested but because it happens. Talk about being vulnerable. Here you are, a maturing teenager with multiple others surrounding you while you change and dress, This sure would be awkward and embarrassing for some. It was for Blue.

Blue tried to be modest always and changing in front of her peers was not something she enjoyed. Like she knew already she was turning into a young lady and she was feeling that embarrassment any way. Not to mention the confusion of having to dress in front of others. What if they laughed at her? What if they made fun of her, or talked about her? Many things to consider. Being a young lady was proving difficult. Blue was being reminded each day of how she was changing. Her days of being young were numbered.


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Poem

Baffled by MwsR

“This too shall pass”, I think not

Maybe it is because there is this huge knot

It goes wherever I do

You played me for a fool

I wish that last day

Before it all went away

You’d of told me you were sorry

That you weren’t in a hurry

To get rid of me in your life

Felt like you sliced my soul with a knife

You cared not,

Your temper was too hot

Maybe you did not fully think

It all did happen on my end, in a blink

Words were tossed out from your heart

You did not act too smart

I was pregnant

You acted ignorant

Wanting to hit me

You aren’t a special entity

You were merely a bully

Trying to impose your own ways

Forgetting that I didn’t have to stay

I also had my own say

Look at how domineering you tried to be

All you did was totally disgust me

Suppose to be my family

You wanted to be free

Look how that worked not in your favor

You were disguarded, like a bag of trash

And you started that fire, and became the ash

I however, went on to belong

I went ahead, because I wasn’t in the wrong

Poor pitiful you

Hope you enjoy all the damage you spew

Baffled at what you hoped to gain

Look back at your lies, that caused nothing but pain!

Poem

Oblivious, by MwsR

Once upon a day

My heart began to sway.

I couldn’t tell whether to try

Or give in to an obvious lie.

I wished upon a moonlight sky

Without any particular notion as to why.

Inside I started to feel myself unravel

It was like a kid skinning their knee on some gravel,

Oblivious to the blood that starts to show

But knowing that it hurt a slight bit though.

Content though to ignore it all for the play,

We adults also do things this way.

Not noticing or taking heed to the scars and marks

We keep getting hurt the same each time we embark.

Till one day we fall down and something clicks

Maybe it is the words, or maybe the licks.

We finish our story in a twist

Like suicide can result from cutting your wrists.

Permanent and final it will be

When it’s over or you mend

There will be an end.