Variety is the Spice of Life


Here I go again taking classes.  This one is Part III of the series on modern women poets taught by Lorraine Mejia-Green through the Story Circle Network.  We read poems by a variety of women and use their works and related assignments for inspiration.  This week features Julia Alvarez and even though I have already read all her novels, etc. and a book of prose poetry, the selected poems are new to me.  It seems I always take a different route from a lot of the others enrolled in the class.  The following show cases draft two of my first assignment:

I keep coming to this part

where I’m happy

95 per cent of the time.

It’s my story

dictated by

ME.

“Variety is the Spice of Life.”

Cliche?

Yes, but true.

Four marriages

Lovers-I lost count

Activist in “love” with

Che and other South American

Revolutionaries.

Feminist for forty years

Up to maybe four careers.

Big city apartments

Ranches

Old houses by the bay

Bricks with arched windows

A tree lined street.

Can I settle?

For what, with whom, where?

Variety is the Spice of Life.

Marriage


ONE

Afraid of revealing me       the Essence of Me

Mother told me                  Boys won’t like it

Too smart                     Too aggressive

Too full of              Myself

Too serious             Too intense

Too adventuresome

Too nasty a temper

Too in love with Possibility

Too             Too         Too        Too       Too       Too

I took her advice

Married  a Genius Scientist

Safe                    Timid                 Disadventurous

He liked me because I could Shoot a

Bird off a Wire

a hundred feet away.

In time We All Died

Him             Me            the Bird

TWO

Last night I dreamed of him

Black velvet, young, strong, sexy, arrogant.

I had to have him!

This morning

I almost told our daughter.

Then I Remembered

It took nearly 31 years for me

to Learn

She has a sister only 3 months younger.

She told me.

He has never said a word.

THREE

I remember the time he touched my face, melting me.

I married him;

My face slowly, inexorably froze.

FOUR

I was a very good investment.

He consistently insulted my daughter.

We are ALIVE and HAPPY.

He’s DEAD.

Meeting on the Internet


Who are you?

Are you

who you

say you are?

Is your profile

a lie to

attract the gullible

or your heart’s

outpourings,

your soul

open

for all

to see?

Will you tell me

truths or

lies copied

off a website

designed for predators

cleverly disguised?

Will we dream of

touching,

mouth to mouth

passion,

bodies hungry

or perhaps

a relapse

into despair,

malaise?

Will we grow

to love

happiness

or to cynicism,

disillusionment,

a lie?

True Love


“True Love.  Is it normal…?”

Wislawa Szymborska

 

 

Who gets it?

Does it descend

like lightning

striking

only the lucky?

Is it a curse,

a blessing,

a gift?

Me, I’m clueless.

I think perhaps my parents had it.

I don’t.

Never had

or did I miss it,

the strike

the blinding?

Lust I understand.

True Love??