Poetry Corner – “Anne Boleyn”

Fear Not Productions

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…

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Midnight Moon – “The Marking”

Fear Not Productions

“The Marking”

She was angry.

Anger persisted as a side effect of her ability to control fire; the emotion rolled through her like molten lava, threatening to spew through her pores at any given moment. The mind, Aurora would always say, controlled the body, therefore the mind should always be strong. (Of course, Angelia would not always agree, being more agile than mentally controlled.)

But the soul, Felice interjected softly, superseded them all.

Her soul toiled with restlessness and fury. Perhaps that was why, when she picked up the bo, even though her mind and body had transcended to a space of peaceful tranquility, her fingertips darkened the mahogany wood.

“You can refuse you know,” he told her, back straight, the grip on his own bo firm but casually dangerous.

A muscle twitched in her thigh–the only movement of her body. Her soul, on the other hand, smoldered with contempt.

“Like…

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Poetry Corner – “Living in Your Head”

Fear Not Productions

“Living in Your Head”

Chillin on Sunday with shades drawn
World turns but you’re hiding out
Saturday’s whirly mirth is gone
In worship of self you’re the most devout
No visitor is quite worthy
Reaching out will break the spell

Do you bump into yourself everywhere or do you let someone in?
When you’re living in your head, do you remember where you’ve been?

Paranoia missed you at the bar
Holding ya seat, asking, “How ya been?”
He swipes the keys to the car
Steering like you’re old friends
But he imbibed too long
Didn’t notice the obstacle

Do you  try to ignore but  the deduction is too adamant?
When you’re living in your head, who gets blamed for the accident?

Holed up  in your armored fortress
Peeking through the Lego block
All attempts will fail the test
When you leave  the entrance locked
Participation will be thin
If we’re…

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Poetry Corner – “The Mark Made Me”

“The Mark Made Me”

The scar lingers out of sight
Underneath the collar
No princess-cut from thee,
Right over the mammary
And it still aches to breathe
The silk offends sensibility
Water brings no relief
In a livid red it blazes
Proclaiming agony in every inch
Please don’t touch, don’t look
I curl around it, wishing away
But it never heals
Because you slice the same
And I don’t fight 

Everytime

Poetry Corner – “Maybe Someday” (2003)

“Maybe Someday” (2003)

Yes, you were the one
To make the wounds all right.
If you wanted to take me over,
I’d go without a fight.
But I’m young.
I don’t think I could have been
The one to make you sigh in delight.
No, not quite.

Someday, when I get older
Maybe I’ll understand.
Maybe someday,
When I get older,
You and I can be lovers.

I had all these misconceptions in my head.
Reality ensued instead.
It wasn’t like the novels I had read.
Where were all the nights alone,
The walks on the beach,
The breakfast in bed?
Could I really be the one
To have your desires fed?
No, I was misled.

Someday, when I get older
Maybe I’ll understand.
Maybe someday,
When I get older,
You and I can be lovers.
Yeah, someday, when I get older
I’ll be out of this fantasyland.
Then you and I can be lovers.

You think I’m the right one for you.
Perhaps someday that could be true.
But right now, I’ve got some growing to do.

Poetry Corner – “Invisible Woman”

“Invisible Woman”

Sliding in from the shadows
A blur in the corner of the eye
She lingers on the peripheral
If you could see her eyes
You would run from the horror
When she attempts to speak
Her words turn into smoke
At her most bare no one detects
The identity she wears like a shroud
Shes the greatest mystery known
This invisible woman