Tag: child

#PoeticAnswers 26 – How Much Do You Love Me?

I love you a number that’s incalculable.
It may sound unfathomable,
Bordering on inconceivable,
But a number is not believable.

Because love is immeasurable,
But if this answer isn’t pleasurable,
Placing a value is not applicable
Trying would only be despicable.

Sweetie, you are adorable
Even when you’re inconsolable
But I can’t say something numerical
Because that would be heretical.

Darling, please be flexible.
It really isn’t personal.
Please don’t hold me responsible
For this answer diabolical.

I’m sorry it isn’t palatable,
This doesn’t make us incompatible.
But I don’t have an example
Of a value that is ample.

I’m not acting feeble,
You’re being unbelievable,
This situation’s laughable,
Here’s an answer that is passable:

I love you a number that’s incalculable
It may sound unfathomable,
Bordering on inconceivable,
But one hundred sounds believable.

Question from Kirsty E. from Facebook.

#PoeticAnswers 23 – Why Do People Keep Trying To Tell Me How To Be A Girl?

Because they have an image of you
Based on statue from ancient times.
When women were a delicate flower,
They needed protected or saved.
When they were rescued, they were enslaved
And treated like a trophy or property.

Because people want you to:
Be skinny, be curvy,
Be representative of male ideology
Succumb to atypical sexist idolatry
“Because that’s how you’re supposed to be”
But girl, you are not set in stone.

You are flesh and blood,
You were born naked,
So make your skin your tapestry,
And let your body be your home.
Build it and break it and
Paint it and decorate it however you want,

Because it’s yours and no one else’s.
Let no one else tell you
How to run your body.
Love is free so be free
Take the time to love yourself
And anyone else you damn well please
In any way you damn well please.

Be what you want to be,
Drop out of school or take the degree,
Be free, be the next Joan of Arc or Marie Curie,
Because without brilliant women, where would we be?
Without computers, without Kevlar, without basic telecommunication,
We’d still be Victorian, so be victorious
In arts, finance, technology or science.

Be the next Amanda Palmer or Lise Meitner,
The next Ellen MacArthur or Otep Shamaya,
Musician or physicist,
Athlete or writer,
And do not let anything get in your way
But if anything tries, just know you are stronger.

You do not have to
Make his sandwiches, his home or his baby.
You don’t not have to
Be a nurse, be quiet or be a secretary.
You don’t have to be anything you don’t want to be.
Because nonconformity does not affect femininity.

This is not feminist propaganda,
This is an affirmation of humanity.
No one can tell you how to be a girl,
But if they try, just remember:
They’re the one with the problem,
Not you.

Question from Jaymie B. from Facebook

#PoeticAnswers 16: When Are You Going To Have A Whole Brain Again?

Child,
I gave you warmth,
I gave you nourishment,
I did not give you my brain.
If I had, you wouldn’t ask this.

Child,
You have your father’s brain,
It’s as plain as the hose on your face.
Which you also inheritated from your father.
I can say you are definitely more like your father.

Child,
Did I give you my intrigue,
Or did your dad give you stupidity?
Why do you ask the most ridiculous things,
I heard you ask why the triangle had four sides.

Child,
It was a fucking square.
Why couldn’t you be a square?
I’m not angry at you sweetie, I promise.
I blame your father. I definitely blame your father.

Child,
You’re seventeen now,
You asked me how to spell DNA.
Not Deoxyribonucleic acid, the letters, DNA.
You make me want to test you to see if you have my DNA.

Child,
I didn’t give you my brain,
I didn’t give your brother my brain
Damn Kenneth, I didn’t give you my brain
But I swear you’re definitely making me lose it.

Question from Amanda P. from Facebook

#PoeticAnswers 14: What Is A Home?

A home is where the heart is
And the wifi connects automatically.

A home is what we built together,
Because the moment we met, we connected.
There was never a weak signal or
Stone walls in the way of our love.
You had my heart and I had yours,
Our bodies wrapped around each other
Like scaffolding conducting the
Heat and beat of our hearts.

A home is where the walls keep you safe,
Your arms were my walls and
You had my heart and I had yours
The foundation of our love was stronger than
Any form of bricks and mortar,
The fire in our hearts
Resonated through the walls and floors
And the echoes sounded like roars
In the halls of each other.

A home is where I expected us grow old
But all we did was grow cold to each other
Because there were cracks in the walls
That we covered with duct tape and paint
To keep things looking like they were okay
Rather than take the time to
Work together to fix it like we did before.
You put up doors and locked yourself away,
Leaving me wondering what mistake had I made?

A home is where there are no secrets,
But you built a nursery all on your own
And bolted the door to keep me out of your life.
The only time it was open was when you slipped away at night.
I thought we were in this together,
I’d have built you a wheelchair with my bare hands
To give you the support you needed,
I’d have built a crib with my bones because
I would have given everything to keep both of you.

A home is where you left our daughter
And now she’ll never know the value,
Of unconditional love.
Now there’s an empty hole where
Our heart and her bedroom should be
I’d have broken down everything in my way
If it meant I’d know the truth.
Because she would have been the only person
I could love more than I loved you.

A home is what you used to be,
Now your eyes are double-glazed over
And the warmth is already lost.
Now you’re an empty room with
A door I’m afraid to open.
I still keep the embers of our fire going.

Question from my friend and cuddlebuddy, Arzoo.

#PoeticAnswers 11 – Who Is That Red Man In The Bathroom?

“Who is that red man in the bathroom?”
My child asked.
Her voice trembling with fear.
Her small hand wrapped around
The edges of her pyjama top.

“There is no man in the bathroom”
I assured her.
I took her hand in mine,
Shaking like a leaf,
As cold as ice.

As we walked the dark hallway
As we adventured back to her room,
She stopped by the bathroom door.
Her eyes locked on the metal handle,
Stained with blood.

“You’re seeing things darling”
I nudged her on,
But it was too late.
She reached out,
Then she screamed.

I pulled her back and held her close,
I prayed she thought this was a dream.
But her little mind was too far gone,
I can’t imagine what she thought,
I don’t want to.

“He’s in there!
His eyes are white,
I think he’s dead,
He’s dead dad,
He’s just hanging there!”

I brought her face to mine,
Those sweet innocent eyes,
Tarnished, wading in pools of
Tears and blood.
They were too young for this.

“It’s okay, I promise!
I just cut myself shaving”
I prayed she’d believe me but
If I can’t convince myself,
How can I convince her?

She fought my grasp
And tore open the door,
Casting shadow on the floor.
Clutching at empty shapes
In a cocktail of hope and dread.

“He’s here daddy”
But her hands found nothing,
And the shadows that had been cast,
Turned to doubt
With a flick of the lightswitch.

I saw those eyes,
Those tear-stained, petrified eyes.
It won’t happen tonight,
It won’t happen tomorrow,
She’ll never know.

“There’s no one here honey,
Now go back to bed.”
As I tried to assuage
The thoughts in her head,
As I tucked her in, and kissed her goodnight.

And as she slept,
I slunk back to fix my mistake.
I closed the door and took a step back,
Ready to face the truth,
I stared at the mess I left behind.

It was my shadow, my second skin.
Red for the blood,
Black for the bruises.
I raged at myself and my stupidity,
I don’t want to be her nightmares

Maybe one day she’ll understand,
I’m doing this for her,
So she can have a better world,
So she can be safe.
She must never know who I am.

Question from Rebecca L. from Facebook