A crappy poem

Constance…the poem I just posted is crappy…it is the desperate emotional mouth to mouth on my hurt heart and the attempt to just get some of the crap out.

I like what my friend told me about days…it was good medicine…but as always, it is in a poem, regardless of how crappy, that lances the boil.

If you didn’t catch it?  I think that life lived like everyone else is for me a death, a lobotomy of the heart.  But life lived in opposition to the lobotimist? That too has its own risk.

Grappling with being me, and staying close to my Mama…

4 thoughts on “A crappy poem

  1. My heart goes out to you Charissa. I do not believe that you could ever write a crappy poem or for that matter even an average poem.

  2. “I like what my friend told me about days…it was good medicine…but as always, it is in a poem, regardless of how crappy, that lances the boil.”

    I understand this.
    And See you…
    where you are,
    how you are.

    **arms extended, a soft smile on my lips**

  3. Giggles…sooo love the heart, Sis’s…so love the heart!

    Kat, ohhhh…*charissa moans in longing for such a lazy indulgence of her own unwillingness to hone*…would that it were exactly thus! Giggle…the poetry lover in me gets what you are saying…as you talk of taste, and resonance and that inner click we experience with some works and that inner m’eh that is there with others, and the other less edifying reactions we have when our hand gropes fast to find that handle and FLUSH!! Giggle…

    But too well do I know that there is a level that creating things operates on, and it is the craft of it, the balance and feel of it…and it is there that True Truth and Beauty exist…either remaining hidden and resisting the creator’s blind and clumsy pawings or blossoming forth continually yielding up Their bounties for us, ‘neath the skillful hands and coaxing hearts of creators patient and perceptive.

    Sadly, far too often I have settled for the emotional upchuck and called it poetry…and I suppose that in its own way it is…but it is different than when you learn a poems’ song, and then you teach it yours…

    And Dani…yes. Glad you got my lil grace note to you, letting you know that lil line packed a punch…and sustained me like a rod and staff.

    Love you both so, gifts of Grace from the Lady

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