Art by Karin Gustafson
Perched on my toadstool throne
I contemplate my realm
of weeds and rodents.
I had petitioned the gods
for a crown, a purple robe and
to rule an ice cream summer kingdom.
Oh, the curse of dreams that
only see with water color eyes.
I never planned for fading.
I was told my golden road was a carrot
selfish could never reach…There’s
no magic in a tongue of sticks and stones.
Blame is hard grain to chew,
so I self medicate with tears
poured from my violin.
©Susie Clevenger 2017
The perfect accompaniment to self pity is Aase's Death from Peer Gynt Suite No. 1. I've had one or two pity parties lately. I think making myself the cry baby in my own poem is cathartic. Nothing goes well with whine except..perhaps..of course..humor.