Category Archives: Poetry Corner

Poetry Corner – “Helping Hand”

Posted by Denise on

“Helping Hand”

Little microscopic pieces of 
A virus that eats us alive
From the inside
We can do nothing but
Succumb to the sickness

The foundation is crumbling
Coming completely down
Is there a cure for it?

Here I come with a benediction
To help with our affliction
But we’re too far gone
I just helped the end along
There’s no way I could have a helping hand

Poetry Corner – “All Yours”

Posted by Denise on

“All Yours”

Oh yes, there’s the buzz
The looks from the hopeful
The whispers from the jealous ones
When he walks in the room
In his slick urban costume
Everyone acts like they’ve been blessed

He’s Hell’s gift to womankind
The mistake you never wanna claim
He’s the kinda fella that makes you
Hate everyone with his name
But if you want him, you’ve got him
He’s all yours

Oh yes, that’s what I said
He’s all yours

Poetry Corner – “Anne Boleyn”

Posted by Denise on

Ah, my friends–gather ’round. It is time for the tale of a tragic queen.

The first mention of the second wife of the infamous King Henry VIII came from the movie Steel Magnolias when I was a child; Olympia Dukakis and Shirley MacLaine were talking about this person named Anne Boleyn–with six fingers on one hand! What? Bemusement reigned. But the image of deformity persisted.

I took a colloquium on Queen Elizabeth I (if you really wanna get me going on the subject, ask me if I think she died a virgin or not) during my senior year of college; The Tudors began its run on Showtime, and we perused it (privately, as it was extremely provocative–but hey, I discovered Henry Cavill) as part of our study. And thus Anne Boleyn surfaced again. As I learned more of her history, another image began to emerge–one of a woman who wanted the best for herself and would not sacrifice her dignity for nothing less. She resisted Henry VIII at the beginning; she did not want to be any man’s mistress, even a king’s. And no matter how she handled herself in the beginning, she still lost her life–for whatever reason you choose, whether you believe Henry VIII simply wanted to get rid of her, or if she really was unfaithful–that tragic day in May 1536.

So, to me, the story of Queen Anne is a cautionary tale. One that might not have such visceral consequences in this day and age but can still be relatable on some simple terms.

_____________

“Anne Boleyn”

Every girl has a charm
That she holds dear
She believes there’s no harm
Letting someone near

But to be close enough to touch
Takes a man of certain mettle
Can’t let just anyone
Give her the urge to settle

To them, virtue is a tease
Coveted like the rarest jewel
And when they get what they please
Their gentle caress turns cruel

You think it’s safe to let go
While someone’s plotting your overthrow

The stage is set, whispers are coarse
Loyalties are divided down the line
She screams till she’s hoarse
They’ve condemned for the wrong crime

She lost her head in the mix
Despite her good intentions
She lost everything in the end
Sort of like Anne Boleyn

Poetry Corner – “Water”

Posted by Denise on

Danger you are
But I walk on the wire
“Be good, girl” but I don’t heed
The warning to preserve me

Elusive as smoke
I scent you in the air
I follow the trail
Again we resume

Dare me to come, I will
Dare me to fall, I’ll spill
The contents of me at your feet
Like I’m made of water

Take care, my heart is gone
You’ll find I’m made of stone
I can’t battle you fair
If I’m mush in my underwear

She’ll touch and leave
Marks scrubbed with soap
Underneath you’ll find scars
The only thing I call mine

Dare me to run, I’ll fly
Dare me to tell, I’ll lie
Until inside you’ve been satisfied
Like I’m made of water

Poetry Corner & ¡En Español! – “Fresas suculentas”

Posted by Denise on

«Fresas suculentas»

En el jardin
plantamos
fresas

el color de rojo
como barra de labios
como rosas an la floracion primera

yo quiero mis fresas
en una pieza de pastel
por la día de la Independencia

estallan como fuegos artificiales
debajo de la gallina de crema
en un mar de relleno

y si fresas están en chocolate
un placer decadente
pues…no las resisto

mi hermanito me da una sonrisa
cuando las come
¿Cómo comes tú tus fresas?

Poetry Corner – “…Nothing But”

Posted by Denise on

“…Nothing But”

Watching from the shadows an injustice so brutal—
It cleaves the heart from atrium to ventricle.
Everyday something new bursts the breath
From that internal balloon, leaving flatness in its wake.
Brief moments of refuge are taken clandestine
For now nothing is quite sacred or private—
Sleep is even elusive, and there are no dreams
To provide a vibrant escape from consciousness.

However there is a place, happily and blithely kept,
That provides a space for open hearts and minds
That are ingeniously crafted of a particular mettle.
Affection and Caring gush from every crevice—
There is no one person in the world who more deserves
The sense of tender welcome that never wears thin,
For it provides the sustenance to surge ahead
And break oneself from insidious imprisonment.

The foundation has been forged, 608 days strong,
And day after laborious day the building blocks are
Gently added by hand, a careful work of camaraderie
That is accommodating for every sort of emotion
And permutation of liking in human existence,
Standing discreetly in the distance, out of the way,
Able to easily be reached by a leisurely walk down
A path filled with beauty anywhere else unimaginable.

For the valiant heart, the soldier who has not lost
The deadly weapons he has in a forgotten arsenal,
For the artistic mind, the poet who has not mislaid
The intrinsic words he has in a secret place,
For the attentive soul, the gentleman who has not squandered
The amiable ways he lavishes on those around him,
This is the truth from my heart.

Poetry Corner – “Heart”

Posted by Denise on

“Heart”

Oh, Heart–why is it that you can never lie still
When he lifts his eyes to mine and flashes a smile?
Intellect ardently yells its disapproval from above
And warns you smartly of a painful demise.
But you tremble on, relishing the warmth and light
That chases the chill and gloom inside you away.

Oh, Heart–why is it that you can never resist that tug of gravity
When he opens his arms and wraps them around me?
Sense fervently tells you not to fall for the pretense
That traps unsuspecting young women against temptation.
Yet you tumble down, loving the sensation of
Being Heart to his Heart.

Oh, Heart–why is it that you can never let me sleep peacefully
While of plaguing me with thoughts I cannot cease?
I am too old for romantic daydreams and flights of fancy
But the girl in me surfaces in the twilight and wishes
That once, just this once, his Heart felt the same as you.

And Heart–I honestly cannot blame you for sighing
When his lips touch mine in goodbye.
Sense even understands the affection in the gesture.
But Heart, you take it upon yourself to intensify its meaning
Until he and I are almost betrothed, offering up I-love-yous
Over matching his and hers bath towels.
Seriously? Not a chance, Heart.

Yes, I know Sense and Intellect are aligned with Pessimism and Doubt
And you’d rather not heed their constant warnings
Coupled with their good intentions. You’d rather ignore
Their reasoning and barrel on blindly, believing that
Perhaps things are better your way. The possible truth is
Too hard to reconcile, to hard to accept.

I have grown up in a world where Sense and Intellect
Are supposed to better dictate my actions (for the most part, anyway)
And there has not been much room for you, Heart.
But you are too stubborn to be ignored, too insistent to be
Concealed, and before I know it, I am floored
By the tenderness in his embrace–dammit, I feel you–and I sigh. Well.

I think you’ve gotten me in trouble.
Because I have with the slightest fear
That despite all of my Sense and Intellect and Pessimism and Doubt
I have much, much more Heart than I need.