the canopy bed

Copyright Jeff Wood on Pixabay

https://pixabay.com/photos/bed-canopy-wild-natural-wilderness-5065872/

in                                                        my                                      childhoood

room                                           there was a                                canopy bed

and I  dreamed many big dreams of many big things, believing that one day

they  would all come true, but in reality, big dreams lead to massive crashes

my dreams                                                                                     my hopes

came crashing                                                                              down hard

nobody heard                                                                              the sound of

my defeat                                                                                        except me

nobody gave                                                                                a flying damn

I was just                                                                                      a stupid girl

being a massive                                                                            drama queen

one day the                                                                                  canopy was

taken down                                                                                    and it was

never put                                                                                          back up

the little girl with a head full of dreams too massive for this world was dead

I buried her but the dreams continued to haunt me as I tried hard to conform

to a world that wasn't made for, that was filled with disdain for the likes of me

I no longer have a pretty canopy bed upon which to lay my ugly head, I said

to dream that I will wake up pretty and be the toast of the city, it's time to let

those dreams                                                                                  fall dead

don't look                                                                                       back now

your hope                                                                                      died somehow

it was                                                                                             too big

for this                                                                                            little world

now bury                                                                                        your dreams

and step                                                                                          in time

it's time                                                                                          to conform

you foolish                                                                                     little girl

notes

I'm not sure this looks like a canopy bed. I tried. I am dreadful at making shape poems.

I biffed the prompts yesterday (I did the "change" poem two days in a row), so today I'm doing two April PAD challenge prompts: massive and don't look back. The NaPoWriMo prompt was to describe a bedroom from my past.

And now for the inevitable blah-blah.

Content coyright 2020 by Cara Hartley

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OctPoWriMo 2017: Day 18: Everyone Went On Eating

My life is a mess

She said, grieving her lost dreams

Feeling dead inside

At the family table

Everyone went on eating

~Cie~

Note:

This is autobiographical.

I didn't feel up to trying the Palindrome poem today and thought it would be most effective to keep my work brief.

The Cheese Grates It + 30 Days of Haiga 2017: Day 29: Desert of Dreams

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Original background image copyright Devesh V. Tripathi

Verse and text manipulation by The Real Cie

Thoughts:

The image and the prompt made me think of all the things I planned to do in life, most of which fell through due to fighting with a very misunderstood disease, the prescription for which was pills that made me feel even worse and the edict that I should "just stop that stinkin' thinkin' and be happy for what I have." 

While western society has a somewhat better understanding of mental illness than it did when I was younger, the treatment of both mental and physical illnesses in many countries, including first world countries such as the United States is out of reach for many citizens.

I do not respond well to medications or to this particular aspect of me being treated in a completely clinical fashion. I have often felt that I, as a person, have been ignored in favor of seeking textbook symptoms and outcomes. One of my son's EMS instructors wisely said: "treat the patient, not the chart." This is something that practitioners treating both body and mind all too often fail to do.

I would have done well to learn skills to cope with my particular mental presentation, rather than having wrestled for so many years with failed attempts to turn me into something I am not: a happy robot, gleeful to take my Soma and take on my prescribed role as a cog in the machine.

At this point in my life, I am no longer devastated by not being famous or adored, but I am awfully tired and a bit sad at the way some things have turned out. I try not to feel like a failure. I deliver groceries rather than speeches on the Red Carpet (or what have you) as I accept an award for my wonderful performance or book. 

Delivering groceries while clad in modest attire does not make me any less worthwhile than those delivering acceptance speeches for their grand performances while clad in glamorous gowns or sleek suits. However, I am tired and I ache and I am sad to see so many people I have known both in real life and through their work which inspired me becoming ill and dying. I would like to stop working for a living and start simply living. 

This isn't likely to happen anytime soon, and I fear that what happened to my father will happen to me. Less than a week after taking full retirement, my father had a hemorrhagic stroke which forever altered his life and the lives of his immediate family. He went through six years of decline, including more strokes and congestive heart failure. In the end, he was like a frightened child trapped in an adult body.

I don't want that to be my fate. But I fear a similar fate awaits the majority of us who live in a society which sees people as flesh androids rather than souls operating through corporeal vehicles.

The most humble of us and zir dreams is equal in importance to the most celebrated among us. Perhaps it is time to celebrate the most humble members of society and give weight to their hopes and dreams.

~The Cheese Hath Grated It~

30 Days of Haiga 2016: Day 17: Shipwreck Shore

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Original Image:

Copyright: hardyuno / 123RF Stock Photo

Words by Gunnar Raven

Photoshop manipulation by The Real Cie

 

S is for Shadow Sonnet

Image source

 

Standing In the Shadows Of

Shadow of my former self casts shadow

Over life I sometimes wish was over

Her broken dreams are all that's left of her

Wishing she had more than hopeless wishing

Disappointment causes disappointment

Soul haunted by dreams lost is a sad soul

Shattered wishes in a heart that's shattered

Impossible wishes impossible

Delusion begets only delusion

Sorrow can only beget more sorrow

Tomorrows replaced by new tomorrows

Her dreams of love impossible to her

Yesterday's dreams remain as yesterdays

Visions remain as only lost visions

~Cie~

Shadow Sonnet

The Shadow Sonnet was created by Amera M. Andersen, may be written in any sonnet style. The Shadow takes place at the beginning and ending of each line as the words are identical or homophonic. Since all poetry was originally meant to be sung or recited out loud, homophonic words are acceptable, these are words that sound alike such as “see and sea”. (Rules: 14 lines, 9 or 10 syllables per line. The poem should have a volta or pivit; iambic pentameter is not necessary.)

Example #1:

Spirit to Spirit

So many things have turned my spirit so.
Yet I do resist and yield to it yet.
Know that I give my strength for you to know.
Forget you? Nay, I shall never forget.

Left with my sandpaper dreams since you left.
Love lies in my spirit, for you my love.
Theft of your presence is not spirit theft.
Above all my dreams, I hold you above.

You now have returned, I knew it was you.
Waiting so long as my heart was waiting;
few have returned, yet you're one of the few.
Aching for you as my soul was aching.

War takes so many; yet, you've beaten war.
Door of my spirit, come enter my door.

Copyright © 2007 Amera M. Andersen

A L'Arora: An Infamous Life

Fickle Fame by Time Released Sound is the perfect musical accompaniment to the poem.

In my youth

I wanted to live

An admirable life

Where others envied

And wanted to be me

I would be one of the great ones

To my dismay

I've been one of the hated ones

People don't understand those like me

We live on the fringes

Scraping by

Many say its our own fault

If we could just behave correctly

We would be accepted

I guess I didn't know how to

So I've always been rejected

I guess I lack

The looks

The confidence

And the courage

To be one of the beautiful people

I suppose I wasn't thin enough

I've always had something, that's certain

But I guess it isn't the right stuff

As I enter the late afternoon of my life

I no longer crave adulation

I just wish I had enough to get by

I think the truth is I was lonely 

I wanted someone to love me

But it would have been hollow

The truth about fame, or lack thereof

Is a bitter pill to swallow

~Blooming Psycho~

A L'Arora The A L'Arora, a form created by Laura Lamarca, consists of 8-lined stanzas. The rhyme scheme for this form is a, b, c, d, e, f, g, f with no syllable count per line. The minimum length for the poem is 4 stanzas with no maximum length stipulation. The A L'Arora is named after Laura Lamarca as "La" is her signature. "Aurora" is Italian and means "dawn" - "Arora" is derived from this. This form is dedicated to Chad Edwards.

Example:

To Eternity

She had harboured her conscience
as saddened seas set sail
and a hail of happiness
harpooned her harmed heart;
yet the start of her story
cast its line long ago...

when blame built a boat
to float to and fro.

She had waded through waters
towards distant dreams,
as sky's streams shone strong
for promise to grow,
and tide told of legends,
of pirates and gold...

of adventures and romance
and treasures to behold.

Soft breeze blew her homewards
towards challenge and smile,
over miles of surrender--
befriending love's sighs.
Undercurrents urged notions
to traverse oceans...and land

as anchors raised rainbows
and sorrows turned to sand.

She harnessed the beauty
that greeted her ashore,
as core swelled with longing
to sing songs...and survive.
And she lived with pride's palms
for forever and a day...

past's anchor has long rusted--
eroded echoes...stripped away.

Copyright © 2009 Laura Lamarca

No Quarter

Note: I am currently in quite a low place emotionally, and this poem is what was inspired by the 100 Word Song challenge. If the only thing you have to say is to tell me that I "shouldn't" feel how I'm feeling, then kindly fuck right off. I am feeling how I'm feeling, and I don't have the patience to argue with the sort who wants to sanctimoniously lecture me about it.

I've found in my long and often difficult life that the people who want to tell a sad or angry person to stop feeling that way have gleaned some sort of uncomfortable truth from said individual's work. I've got some bad news for you, Sunshine. Life is not always a happy place, and there are some for whom it's always a struggle. If you can acknowledge that with an open mind, read on. Otherwise, go here.

No Quarter

When you are

Middle aged

Mentally ill

And

Badly Broke

You realize

That there are no

Opportunities

For those like you

To triumph

Ever

You stop trying

Because you can never triumph

You stop sharing

Because the only thing that happens

To the words you share

Is that they are torn down

Love is meant for beauty queens

And opportunities

Are only given

To those who meet certain qualifications

Agreed upon by a shallow

Youth-oriented

Society

I learned the truth at seventeen

But fueled by denial

I hoped that the bleeding hearts and artists

Would embrace me

It never happened

~Tempest~

Yesterday's Dreams

 

Yesterday's Dreams

 

It’s not likely that anyone will ring soon

Asking me to star on stage or screen

That ship long ago sailed away

On the dark water of yesterday’s

Dreams that never came true

 

~Faycin A Croud~

 



Fading

Image found here

The dreams of my youth

Fading into the distance

With my dreams of love

~Dolly~

Hold On To the Dream

 

Hold Onto the Dream

by

Illsa

 

No quarter is given

No means too extreme

When you're trying your damndest

Not to wake from a dream

 

You cling to the branches

Of the storm-shaken tree

Lest you lose your grip

And fall to reality

 

The painful realization

When one wakes from sweet scenes

Cause the Quixotic with great zeal

To hold onto their dreams

 

Falling from great heights

Can cause dire hurt

You plunge from the Heavens

And end up in the dirt

 

The most beautiful of fantasies

Is the sorriest of vanities

 

~Illsa~