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.
Comments
no magic in a tongue of sticks and stones."
So true. Tongues should be made of everything...
..
'Oh, the curse of dreams that
only see with water color eyes.
I never planned for fading.'
so I self medicate with tears
poured from my violin
Music is a reasonable way out in many instances!
Hank
Superb writing and such a potent subject.
only see with water color eyes.
I never planned for fading.' I don't think any of us plan on fading, that we think we will be young forever. Self-pity is truly a negative emotion but writing about it is so cathartic and cleansing. I've been having a proper pity party myself. Now I guess it's time I quit and get to doing again. Loved this poem.