AUTHOR: Aeriel Holman
ACTIVITY: Homework, First Poem.
DATE: April 17, 2012 (created)
NOTES: This was the first poem of the semester; it was suppose to be based on our personal childhood history, or some memory that really stuck with us. Unfortunately, my memory is extremely accurate and quite well accounted for. I can pull most images and instances from my mind without much thought. It's creepy-good. No memory was more overpowering than another. So, I just kinda typed stuff out. When I got done, I was realized that it sounded like I had an abusive childhood. It wasn't my intention. I was just trying to weave bits together and focused on a bunch of random things my mom ever said to me. Well, this version is a lot more cleaned up (and WARNING still sounds like a sad, sad story) but I'm happy to say there is nothing connected between it and my childhood. Maybe this is in someone else's childhood, and so for those souls, I leave this as it. Everyone has a voice in poetry; otherwise, none of us have a voice.
"Cry me a river," she said,
And they felt the disconnect
Like a boat dashed loose of anchor
Becoming free from the harbor
Adrift on an eye-made ocean instead.
"What's broken can never be fixed," she said,
And that cut down deeper
Than the ridges of the ceramic horse head
Whose neck oozed blood
Making fragile fingers stuck with glue.
"No man is worth jail time," she said,
And glowered white, red-hot rage
The same colors of her knuckles
On the hand holding a wooden handle
Of the knife that gave the soul splinters.
"You're always full of want…" she said.
"What sorry really means…" she said.
"I love you," she said. "But…"
She said a lot of things.