They say distance makes the heart grow finder.
I disagree.
Distance makes the heart forget.
Emotion means little when miles between facilitate a disconnect;
A new beginning when the old one was good enough no matter how many times the rug needed to be lifted to sweep away the broken pieces.
Now the rug is gone, torn apart thread by thread, the strain of stretching from coast to coast too great.
No matter.
Distance makes the heart grow harder.
The mind weeps instead.
I have a new hat.
This is important because:
1) I look totally cute in it and…
2) This has been confirmed by total strangers commenting on my cuteness and because…
3) I found out after getting back to the hotel this past weekend that my hat is apparently a “poet style” hat. I swear to you that I had no idea when I purchased it. I was just going off of the fact that out of the million I tried on, this was the only one that I didn’t think I looked like a total jackass in when I saw my reflection. That, and The Husband didn’t point and laugh when I asked him what he thought about it. (Yeah, I know. He’s sweet like that.)
I. Have. a. Poet. Hat.
This amuses me beyond words and I may actually start wearing it when writing poetry. And you can bet your ass I’ll be online later searching for a Smart Ass Mama with a Hefty Side of Snark hat. You know, ‘cuz then I’ll be able to literally switch hats when necessary.
I’ve been getting a crazy amount of hits with “Roy G. Biv” as the search term. My ego thinks that’s pretty snazzy. So I dug through my word doc and decided to post one more. If the hits keep coming, I might get brave enough to revise a few of the weaker poems and start querying. I’d love comments!
The end of the Rainbow
At the end of the Rainbow
Are Violet and Gold
But no one pays attention to
Violet
They can see her just fine
But since the beginning of
Time
It has always been about where Gold
Is hiding
It’s been a while since I posted a poem from my children’s book, Roy G. Biv. But lo and behold, the term keeps popping up in my blog searches from visitors, so I thought I’d pick another favorite to share.
Who knows…maybe one day I’ll be able to share with you that the collection dreamed itself into a real-life book. For now, I’ll just share what I’ve got.
Violet and Violet
Violet the Crayon is
Very proud
For a flower was named in
Her honor
Violet the Flower is
Even prouder
For she knows the crayon was named
After the Flower
The difference between blood and water
lies not in the consistency, but in the
glorious truth that water comes with
a choice.
Blood binds me, ties me to
nothing
and to
everything.
But it binds me, nonetheless.
Blood comes with baggage, with history,
with future, and with family arguments,
most of which are held in my head.
Blood comes with love and with pain and with
laughter
and
tears
and strangers who once were more
until they decided that sometimes
blood just isn’t thick enough.
Blood comes with a heavy responsibility
to remain loyal to what was in order
to maintain appearances because
it’s just easier to lie to ourselves
with strained smiles for our public
and save the bitching for when
the appropriate backs
are turned.
Blood comes with a silence so loud
that we must laugh louder
to drown out the sound of
words left unspoken.
So I choose water when blood remains
the only tie.
Because sometimes, blood just isn’t
thick enough.
| Copyright 2010 Aspiring Mama | Suffusion theme by Sayontan Sinha |
