Poem A Day, Poetry

Day Twenty Seven, Poem Number Twenty Seven: “Girl With The Bruised Knees”

She was the Girl with Bruised Knees
and the Bruised Heart
with love taken as far as it could
but still a million miles apart

Despite all her Pleading and Pleasing
her Labors bore no Recompense
aside from a Damaged psyche
uninvited Bitterness made manifest

She was the Girl with Bruised Heart
And the Bruised Knees
Battered fruit Ruined
eternally mouthing, Why Me, Why Me

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Poem A Day, Poetry

Day Twenty Five, Poem Number Twenty Five: “A Brusquely Told Tale of Love, Marriage, and the Death that Comes After”

He didn’t want to get married,
She didn’t want children, let alone two.
Together, away they were carried
by the things they swore they would never do.

The love came easily enough,
but not the hard work that made it count
because that’s something that never does
if it did we wouldn’t want it anyhow.

The marriage was never faultless
but it was always safe and assured.
Alone they would hardly impress,
but together they flourished and endured.

Suddenly, he was revealed a fraud
and their life was mashed and bled
like the enraged fist of God
pummeling pure innocence in the head.

He took to sleeping on the couch
only after she had left her keys
because the bed they’d shared, he found
was too big and cold and empty.

His crime was indiscretion and poor taste.
This was a fatal flaw deep in his character.
Tragedy is often what heroes await,
but brave and bold he was not – he abandoned her.

The fight swirled beneath his skin from the start.
However he refused to let it seep through.
The fear and remorse tore him apart,
his guilt shackling him to his lonely truth.

Ultimately his daughters never blamed him,
not outright to his face at least.
Yet they still learned a valuable lesson:
love is only as perfect as people can be.

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Poem A Day, Poetry

Day Nineteen, Poem Number Nineteen: “Junior”

To my unborn
and never will be born
Child
I’m not a good man,
I don’t do things right.
This is what keeps me up at night.

Had he been a boy,
here is what I would have said:
Always be responsible and fair.
Never lie, cheat or steal.
Behave in the opposite way that I do.
Love not only yourself but those around you.

Had she been a girl,
I would’ve spoiled her until she was rotten.
Daddy’s little girl surrounded by enough
stuff to keep her happy in her cage
because dating was never going happen.
All boys are dirty, just like your old man.

He would be in little league now
hitting home runs, wowing the crowd.

She would be winning the spelling bee
having no trouble with words like ‘illegitimacy.’

I pray that he doesn’t hold it against me
but that prayer is false
because it was for the best.
No matter how many sad words I write,
I gave him up without a fight

I pray that she won’t hate me
but my empty prayer will be heard by no one
because I don’t believe in God
and He doesn’t believe in me.
So what right do I have to plea?

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Poem A Day, Poetry

Day Fifteen, Poem Number Fifteen: “Remember When”

Remember when your confidence was low
and your boss tore you down
and I built you back up
and encouraged you to fight back?
No?

Remember when your friends deserted you
and the best one of all made you feel like dirt
and I held your hand throughout
and pressed you to be the bigger person?
No?

Remember when your parents shunned you
and ignored you after they kicked you out,
how I loved and nurtured you
and welcomed you into my own family because you were?
No?

Remember that one time when I hurt you
because I’m weak and selfish and full of doubt
and I couldn’t control myself although I knew better
and it was the worst goddamn mistake of my life?
Yes.

Of course you do.
And you’ll never forget it.

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