Posts Tagged ‘ Alone ’

Last Place – Poem

Paint the clown into place
Slip the pillow over your face
Don’t let the façade call from grace
Never forget to remember your place
You have never stood a chance in the matriarch race
But it was never because you tripped on a lace
It can’t be your fault that you’re from outer space
Perhaps they all judged you with too much haste
Or you simply travel at a different pace
Are you the one bottle of cider in a Rose wine case?
It is simply that they are not of the same taste?

Perhaps it is they that are in the wrong case
It is them travelling at an incorrect pace
And once upon a time they were judged in haste
Nothing should stop everyone existing in the same space
Without needing their hands tied behind them with a lace
And you can all be Queen of your matriarchal race
Be positioned at the top spot, all in prime of place
As a group, you could all be virtues of grace
So remove the pillow from over your face
Live together in a harmonious place.

© 20th July 2014


Poem: Summer

The leaves barely move as the gentle summer breeze whispers over them,
Still and quiet, non-existent.
Commuters bustle in, buzzing around, droning on, staring into space,
Barging past, knocking and jostling, pollen transfers and stems break,
Fallen to the floor in a disregarded heap, waiting for the next whisper to move them on.
Even as new flowers bud, new leaves sprout, every day simply passes by as the summer thunders do.
A life giving sun beats down, burns down upon the withered,
As bathers simply lie back, enjoying another’s Hell on Earth.
Routine as clockwork, bullets whoosh past in reality, normality,
A horrendous, inescapable normality.

Go on your day. Notice these things. Just once.

Notice me.

(C) Persephone M 12th July 2014

Please note that this poem was originally posted on my other blog: Persephone: Parent

Poem: Overlooking Normal

Standing there alone, her balcony to the world below,
She’s alone with her thoughts as the world passes by.
It’s all at her feet and it could all be hers, if she wanted it,
Or she could stand there alone with no desires met.
It’s all superficial in her sector of the world,
All about looks, possessions and not what’s inside.

Her shocking pink towelling keeps her warm under the sun,
Keeps the naturally heated yellow from her orange skin.
The tartrazine hair that’s brittle and scraped up,
Barely blows on the motionless early morning outing.
Bare footed on the decking, her toes wriggle free,
A few minutes left and then her comfy couch will beckon.

The traffic hums beneath her, steadily throughout the day,
A normal lull after and before the working day times.
She only knows from her hourly foray into sunlight,
That others have a routine more complex than she.
The children passing her, pass her by without a care,
An occasional glance and smirk at their awaiting life.

Across the road on which they all run, hidden in bricks,
The cooks of the future practice hard behind the black outs.
Wondrous smells diffuse through the fog and smoke,
Of foreign dishes, natural methods, no added toxins.
She knows nothing of what occurs behind the open windows,
She knows only of tins, cans, jars, of take-aways, of junk.

Huffing and puffing, her head’s almost lost in the clouds,
A life wasted some would say, a life enjoyed by her.
She knows nothing else, doesn’t understand “potential”,
Young or old, because who can tell with the added lines,
A sadness washes over me for what she believes in,
Daytime TV on the sofa, Nighttime dancing on a floor.

In the corner, everything’s piling up: dirty clothes, dirty dishes,
A pile of babies play near by, fighting and screaming.
In that minute of peace, she forgets all about the life inside,
Only to return and Yell for silence to watch her shows.
They’ll follow her example from now and to forever,
Living worse than rats, reproducing like bunnies and her.

She was never given potential, or the room to grow,
The same punishment falls upon them now, doomed.
None know of anything else, their cards have been dealt,
They can see no escape from their Alcatraz, my Hell.
Until men walk in and buy her a drink, receiving much more,
He can be the new father, he can be her saviour.

It all turns sour from the first sobering moment,
Yet they all cling on, sinking further away from potential.
She yells and she screams, she fights with the men,
Then yells and screams at the babies for fighting back.
Until someone breaks and the men flee in the night,
Leaving heartbroken babies and another on the way.

(c) Persephone Muse 16th July 2011
I wrote this last year, inspired by a woman who still persists on watching the real world pass her by. Simultaneously, I’m able to look down upon her, look up to her and meet her eyes dead on.
~ Persephone M

Poem: Misguided Sense

Silence fills around, deafening those few left as eyes see only
The glistening reflection of someone no longer there

Their words echoe across the void bouncing from tongue
To tongue as the only ears that matter drowns them out

Smiling lips dripping blood red tears down a chin are hidden from
Pryings coated in layer upon layer of brown poison

Shrill warnings splinter the air piercing what remains
Of the familiar drum beat until nothing remains in the blank

What once was feared has now replaced all others
As the trusted confidant – loneliness

July 31st 2012

Note: I haven’t written any poetry (possibly anything actually aside odd blog entries) since April.

~ Persephone M

Before Now, I had Never…

This is going to be just a quick blog post because I want to go and lie back down!

Yesterday I had an appointment for day surgery to have a “simple” laparoscopy to check for scarring as a hinderance to trying to conceive. Unfortunately the letter gave me the completely wrong information and it was a lot later on in the day than the letter said, so I had to stay overnight.

It all went okay, except at first the nurses wouldn’t let me sleep because my BP was too low (which was after one nurse questioned my low pulse rate – I’m a cycler) and then the old lady in the bed next to me who snored really, really, really loudly – I’m the girl who kicks her husband out of bed for breathing too loudly!

They discharged me this morning and they said that I look fine internally. As such, there are no more tests to run. And no answers. It might sound a bit perverse, but I kind of wanted one of the tests to show there was something wrong. If there’s something wrong, it means there’s a reason and potentially a solution instead of just… unexplainable, keep waiting. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad there’s nothing wrong. I could only imagine how devestating it would be. The results are the better option, but I’m still in an unknown land.

I’ve never stayed overnight in hospital. I’ve never gone 24 hours without eating. I’ve never been scared to cough or sneeze. Walking into surgery, I’d never felt so alone.

~ Persephone M

Darkness – Poem

Darkness descended, down upon the world,
And sat there, waiting. Until perhaps there was time.
Eyes pass unseeing, lungs breath unknowing,
What poison may be awaiting them in the dark?
A ray of light is all that is sought,
Would the eyes recognise the spectrum?
After all the time that has passed?

To cope and to adapt, survival of the fittest,
Only the strong survive, the tallest, the fastest,
The beaks perfect for the seed.
Perpetuation of their species, passing down the strengths,
As the darkness passed down over everything.
A world of darkness to live a life in,
Not allow it all to pass by in black blurs.

Roughened fingers feel the world, searching,
On the lookout for danger, even if it’s too late.
What if the fate is not to perpetuate? To not live forever?
To fight the pain, the suffering, the eternal unknown,
And live by an inconceivable idea of life unseen.
To dream in light, but avoid the confusion of waking,
And stop hoping for the darkness to ascend.

© PersephoneM 22nd February 2012

My Other Self – Poem

I look in the mirror
And I don’t see me
Am I Alice? Am I Dorothy? Am I Daniel?
Have I touched a Quantum Mirror?
Fallen down a rabbit hole?
Been blown away by a tornedo?
I don’t recall any of these. Yet how did I end up here?
This is not my home
These people do not know me.

I look in the mirror
My reflection shines back
When I move, she moves, copying and following tight
Do they see me?
Or do they see her?
Perhaps a third exists?
She is my opposite in every way. Down to the small details.
I smile, she pouts
These people do not see me.

I look in the mirror
And hear only laughing
It’s at my expense. Yet what have I done wrong?
Have I committed sins?
Is this my karma?
Why am I numb?
Silently, I scream out loud. I shatter my own ears.
I’m alone in my head
These people cannot hear me.

I look in the mirror
And her face is dry
Eyes full of joy and an excited eye twinkle
Is this how I was?
Maybe how I could be?
Who would they prefer?
They believe her to be me. My twin in looks alone.
I hide under her so well
These people cannot find me.

I look in the mirror
And don’t recognise myself
I’m fading fast and sliding slowly into the sunken depths
Where am I falling?
Can I stop myself?
Why do I hide?
I do not recognise me. They buy my fake face.
Up goes my wall
These people cannot see inside.

© Muse Persephone 24th May 2011