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I’ve been working on a collection of poems with a working title of “Sense” since 2003, and here is volume 4 from 2006. Some of these poetic oddities involve a love theme, coincidentally just in time for Valentine’s Day. At least one of these poems has been published already, “Tabula Raza Obscura”, and I’m hoping to publish one or two more individually – or collectively – within a few years.
It’s Not Easy Writing The Book of Love
like throwing hot grits on my face*
Sometimes what you don’t say
is more important than what you do.
I dreamt about her again,
this time scolding me
about to whip my ass –
me – a grown woman
But moms have that right.
He didn’t call me a liar,
or a cheat or a thief;
but it’s out there now,
dangling in the cold air
on a warm June night.
Now I’m thinking again –
what the hell was I thinking?!
Maybe I should give up drinking.
For the record, I didn’t lie to him,
or commit some moral or legal crime.
But now I know he doesn’t trust me,
and how can I live like that?
When you’ve done nothing wrong
and you still feel guilty,
maybe it’s time to walk away
and find solace in the solitude.
tabula raza obscura*
she pretends it never happened
but there’s a gaping hole
in the middle of the floor
where he put his foot down
she’s walking in the dark
and falling to the underworld
where it’s ok to be imperfect
and better if you’re hopeless
she’s as hopeless as…
a penny with a hole in it
she’s looking for approval
because she thinks it’s love
he’s made up his mind now
she’s a badly drawn doodle
so he wipes her away quickly
with a dry eraser’s flourish.
(it’s a clean slate in her dreams.)
another case of writer’s block
everything has been written before
so i’ve given up poetry for good
now I can write that dessert menu
the world needs more pies and pastries
not “clever” ways to express joy & pain
the hot and cold of the human condition
give me a homemade carrot cake
not another awful love poem
sweetened with insincere artifice
let me dream of dark chocolate truffles
while malaise covers me like a blanket
because it’s comforting food to me now
And you can’t eat words.
he loves me, he loves me not
once upon a time when i was six
before i knew him, before he knew me
i swam in the deep bermuda grass
and picked countless clovers
and those little white flowers
a free gift with purchase.
the petals were so tiny and delicate
but i was a careful, patient little girl
plucking the petals and chanting
about that man i hadn’t met yet
hoping the answer would always be
“he loves me,” and not the other one.
Mama Cass’ Revenge
She loved him the first time he spoke to her but
they never had a real conversation about it.
They’d talk at each other, over each other,
always skirting around the issue –
the issue being she wanted him.
But society isn’t kind to fat women,
despite the Rubenesque portraits
and the feel of a flesh in the dark.
So she sang like a skylark without him,
leaving bubblegum pop days behind her.
You gotta make your own kind of music
and dream a little dream of success.
through the disappointments of life
you will find another way to be happy
lived and loved the fast and hard –
the slow and easy way.
© 2006-2009 Danna Williams. Vol. 4 Sense: A Collection of Poems.