Like Last Time

 

Image by PublicDomainPictures from Pixabay

Content warning for discussion of sexual assault follows this bonus picture of Ornery Owl. Don't say I never gave you nothing.

Free use image on Open Clipart Vectors

I like to tell my stories.

Sometimes those stories are fascinating fantasies.

Sometimes they're reality and reality bites.

I know most people don't like to read stories like this.

So I've given you your chance to turn back.

Now I'm going to let it bleed.

Free use image by Pavlofox on Pixabay

I'm not the only one.

https://www.nsvrc.org/statistics

One in five women in the United States experience completed or attempted rape during their lifetime.

After I was assaulted

By my ex-boyfriend 

My father said I'd get over it like last time.

In 1983 he told me

I should have known better than to go with that guy

After I was assaulted.

When I came home in the wee hours of November 1st, 1997

I wasn't planning on being raped

By my ex-boyfriend.

Having panic attacks every twenty minutes

From the time I woke until I fell asleep

My father said I'd get over it like last time.

notes

https://experiencewriting.com/2023/10/24/oct-24-prompts-pulsing-beneath-the-surface/

Start your poem with “My mother says/said” or “My father says/said”.

For this poem, you may want to try a Cascade.

http://www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/cascade.html

Cascade, a form created by Udit Bhatia, is all about receptiveness, but in a smooth cascading way like a waterfall. The poem does not have any rhyme scheme; therefore, the layout is simple. Say the first verse has three lines. Line one of verse one becomes the last line of verse two. To follow in suit, the second line of verse one becomes the last line of verse three. The third line of verse one now becomes the last line of verse four, the last stanza of the poem. See the structure example below:

a/b/c, d/e/A, f/g/B, h/i/C

Why yes, the post is backdated. I'm getting closer to catching up.

~Ornery Owl Has Spoken~

November PAD Challenge 2021: The Great Culinary Battle of a Half-Assed Cook

 

Image by JL G from Pixabay

she took Billy Lynn's long walk to her kitchen

she resolved to prepare cuisine worthy of excitement

she committed herself to following the motivating recipe as closely as possible

her home smelled of rosy red petunias and pretty pickled peanuts

her appetite was insatiable

she took Billy Lynn's long walk to her kitchen

the dessert she made began with bent bristles and blended bananas 

she ignored the knitting neighbors and nagging noises

she resolved to prepare cuisine worthy of excitement

sometimes during past cooking adventures, she had improvised too much

now she realized the mistake she had made

she committed herself to following the motivating recipe as closely as possible

~ornery owl~

110 words

prompts used to prepare this preposterous poem

https://godoggocafe.com/2021/10/23/brave-recklesss-november-creativity-prompt-challenge-autumnblings/

https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/2021/11/friday-writings-1-i-write-with-my-food.html

Prompt: Write about food

The logo was designed by me using free elements from Pixlr. You are welcome to use it if you like. No credit is necessary.

https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/2021-november-pad-chapbook-challenge-day-6

Write a poem about a location.

In this poem, the location of focus is the kitchen.

http://www.octpowrimo.com/2021/10/octpowrimo-2021-begins.html

Prompt: Write a poem about anticipation. Use the cascade form.

https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/poetic-form-cascade-poem

http://puttingmyfeetinthedirt.com

This poem was inspired by a minor culinary disaster. Last night I made tapioca pudding in the slow cooker. My son took some upstairs to his room and came down a few minutes later to tell me the pudding had no flavor. Upon tasting it, I realized that I had forgotten to add sugar. I saved it for tonight and will blend it with some boxed vanilla pudding. 

Here is the recipe I used, in case you are interested. Don't forget the sugar!

4 cups milk

⅔ cup white sugar

½ cup small pearl tapioca

2 eggs, lightly beaten

Stir together the milk, sugar, tapioca, and eggs in a slow cooker. Cover, and cook on medium for 3 hours, or on Low for 6 hours, stirring occasionally. Serve warm.

I also added 1/4 cup of butter for flavor, but that is optional. I had a bit of leftover rice from dinner which I threw in as well.

I didn't have any small pearl tapioca, so I used the large pearl variety. Small pearl tapioca does not have to be soaked. Large pearl does. Oddly enough, tapioca is hard to come by in my area. I haven't had much luck finding it online either.

Here is the recipe source.

https://www.allrecipes.com/recipe/130923/slow-cooker-tapioca-pudding/

The Icky, Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese If You Please (Or Don't Please)

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OctPoWriMo 2015: Day 17: Dancing In The Web

Image copyright Olha Shtepa

OctPoWriMo 2015: 

Day 17: 

Dancing In The Web

Caught in the middle of your web of self-hate

Injecting yourself with venom each day

You used me as a bandage for your wounds

I wanted so much to be your savior

I tried to free you, but you put up your defenses

Caught in the middle of your web of self-hate

I tried to love you, in return you abused me

I only wanted to make you stop

Injecting yourself with venom each day

I wanted to be your only love

You fooled around with so many other girls

You used me as a bandage for your wounds

~Thalia~

Cascade, a form created by Udit Bhatia, is all about receptiveness, but in a smooth cascading way like a waterfall. The poem does not have any rhyme scheme; therefore, the layout is simple. Say the first verse has three lines. Line one of verse one becomes the last line of verse two. To follow in suit, the second line of verse one becomes the last line of verse three. The third line of verse one now becomes the last line of verse four, the last stanza of the poem. See the structure example below:

a/b/c, d/e/A, f/g/B, h/i/C

Notes:

Is it pathetic that I'll be 50 years old on Halloween and my first girlfriend broke my heart so badly that I've never been able to have a relationship since? I suppose it might be. 

I don't want people feeling sorry for me or thinking my life has been wasted. It hasn't. I've had fun in spite of the inevitable visits from the Black Dog. I'm a bit of an introvert, but I do have friends. I'm happy being my niece and nephew's favorite Auntie Thalia. I've just always been afraid to try to get into a relationship again. 

I met my girlfriend when we were both fourteen, but we didn't get involved until two years later. It was all on the down-low, although I think people suspected. Being out wasn't even an option in those days, at least not where we lived. I dreamed of going somewhere like San Francisco where we would be accepted. 

She believed that she could somehow be "cured" if she just "lost her virginity." She fooled around with guys, and it didn't cure her. She blamed me for holding her back and fooled around with other girls to spite me. She called me all kinds of ugly names. She physically abused me. She flaunted other girls in my face. I believed if I just loved her enough, she'd come to love me in return and we could live happily ever after.

I broke up with her on my eighteenth birthday. I knew she could never love me back because she hated herself so much. It was the hardest thing I ever did. I cried every day for more than a year afterwards.

I didn't long for her to return to me. She did far too much damage for me to ever take her back. I stopped loving her a long time ago, but the legacy from our relationship is me being unable to open myself up to love again. 

She died nine years ago from an overdose of X. I don't believe she ever stopped hating herself.

Beliefs such as "homosexuality is a sin" and "we can cure homosexuality" are so destructive. If anyone takes anything away from my story, let it be this. People are people, love is love. Let's support each other rather than tear each other down. Life is hard enough.

I forgive you, Ingrid. I wish you had learned to accept yourself.

Peace,

Thalia

C is for Cascade

Image source

Hello friends! The following poetry form looks like a fun challenge. I'll present my poem first, then you can read about the form and see the example below.

Caught in a Lie

He thought that he was so smart

Or I such a fool

But I was onto his game

He was transparent

As window glass

He thought that he was so smart

Perhaps he believed his own lies

Thought himself such a genius

Or I such a fool

He thought he could have his cake

And eat it too

But I was onto his game.

~Adam~

Note:

Every now and then my ex and I cross paths. I wasted nearly 21 years of my life on his emotional abuse, infidelity, and broken promises. I'm not pining for him, nor would I take him back for the world. Poems like this could be considered balm for the soul of that insecure young man that I once was. 

On a happier note, the more self-assured older me wasn't even looking when the right man came into my life. This Halloween will be our fourth anniversary!

~A~

Cascade

Cascade, a form created by Udit Bhatia, is all about receptiveness, but in a smooth cascading way like a waterfall. The poem does not have any rhyme scheme; therefore, the layout is simple. Say the first verse has three lines. Line one of verse one becomes the last line of verse two. To follow in suit, the second line of verse one becomes the last line of verse three. The third line of verse one now becomes the last line of verse four, the last stanza of the poem. See the structure example below:

a/b/c, d/e/A, f/g/B, h/i/C

To make the Cascade an even longer poem, use more lines in verse one. For example, if verse one has 6 lines, the poem must have seven stanzas so that each line of verse one is reused as a refrain in each following stanza (a cascading effect).

Example
I laugh hard at the poor butcher,
With scarlet hands and crimson eyes,
He smiles as he cuts away.

They gather around him everyday,
"unholy killer" they all scream.
I laugh hard at the poor butcher.

Deaf towards the plea of all,
the buther's fate was long written
with scarlet hands and crimson eyes.

Children cry amidst the crowd,
a mother faints, another screams.
He smiles as he cuts away.

Copyright © 2007 Udit Bhatia