Pantoum, Poetry by Sarah

Askew

Something is off.
I’m feeling askew.
My optimism rough.
Confused what to do.

I’m feeling askew.
Stuck in my mind.
Confused what to do.
Thoughts so unkind.

Stuck in my mind.
My soul in despair.
Thoughts so unkind.
Catapult me out of there.

My soul in despair
My optimism rough.
Catapult me out of there.
Something is off.

By Sarah ©2017


Image courtesy of Boaz Yiftach at FreeDigitalImages.net

Author’s note: Thanks Miriam Hurdle for inspiring me to try this new (to me!) form of poetry. This is my first attempt at Pantoum in response to the Daily Post’s Daily Prompt for 24/5/17, ‘catapult’.

Please visit Miriam’s site and pantoum ‘Letter in the bottle’ .

Prompt: Daily Post Daily Prompt, Word: catapult

Pantoum Poem:
There are four stanzas in the line patterns of
Stanza 1 – 1, 2, 3, 4.
Stanza 2 – 2, 5, 4, 6.
Stanza 3 – 5, 7, 6, 8.
Stanza 4 – 7, 3, 8, 1.
Reference: https://www.youngwriters.co.uk/types-pantoum

Free Verse, Poetry by Sarah

The Person in the Mirror ~ Despair

 The Task ‘Well, it is rather simple. #PersonifyME is about personifying an emotion in your mind. If it was a person, what would it look like. The aim here is to visualise a difficult emotion you’ve been struggling with recently and pour that onto a page in pretty much anyway you like. We want to see what your anxiety, depression, happiness, creativity and all these other things look like.’ Source: https://mindfump.com/

Below is my #PersonifyME about despair. Although written a few years ago, this poem fits the brief and feels like it’s been waiting for this opportunity to be voiced…

Who is this person in the mirror that I see?
Surely, that person, cannot be me?
With a tightness to her mouth that was never there before,
A smile barely gracing her lips anymore.
Eyes that do not twinkle or shine with delight,
Instead marked with sorrow at the loss of tiny life.
Sagging shoulders tell of lost faith in all things good,
When bad things happen to those it never should.
The sense of failure and loneliness running deep within,
Cannot be covered up by make-up upon her skin.
Her footsteps falling heavily, she no longer walks light.
Her dreams but a distant memory of only ‘what might’.
New creases and wrinkles have been etched upon her skin,
As a souvenir of the journey, of grief that she is in.
A future being unravelled that was never her chosen path,
Others moved on – her alone in the aftermath.
Bitterness and resentment is the taste left in her mouth,
Anger and jealousy the only words she wants to spout
Each day she wears a mask so that noone sees her pain,
But in her heart she knows she will never be the same.
Thoughts of hope so hard to grasp, no matter how she tries
Happiness so far away, it seems only a lie.
Dark smudges show she’s tired. Resigned to this new fate.
I don’t want to be this person, but I fear that it’s too late.

By Sarah ©2012

#PersonifyME @ Mindfump

Free Verse, Poetry by Sarah, Scribblings by Sarah

Pâro

Pile upon pile of shit.

It just keeps coming.

I must not be as smart as I need to be.

Unable to shed myself of the mish mash

The wedge between me and the others.

Scrawny in my sense of self,

The primitive me seeks to live vicariously.

You may be wont to disagree

But I think the Pâro*

Has got the better of me.

By Sarah 2017©

* Pâro ((n.) the feeling that no matter what you do is always somehow wrong—that any attempt to make your way comfortably through the world will only end up crossing some invisible taboo—as if there’s some obvious way forward that everybody else can see but you, each of them leaning back in their chair and calling out helpfully, colder, colder, colder.)

Wordle Challenge #154

Words used: pile, smart, pâro, vicarious, mash, disagree, shed, primitive, wedge, scrawny