I run hot and cold, sweet and sour, sometimes naughty
Even haughty, blunt too, rarely nice but often true
I run my errands in blackest black or very blue
But only in the darkest hue
I have withdrawn from most of life,
To feign a certain cool disdain
Avoiding strife, and it's illusion
Yet believe that this protects
Me from myself, and hide I do
Despite a need for human contact
I run, I run, I run from you
©2010 Peggy Pendleton
Friday, May 15, 2009
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Death by Intent
If I have died and you missed the moment
Know that I went peacefully in my sleep
Of my own accord and timing, by my own
Hand which could no longer pound the keys
Pull the ropes, the weeds, the rabbit out of the hat
Let it be said that "she was a woman who had great timing"
Take what you want and we'll say I gave it to you long ago
It will not matter to me now, and who's to say it wasn't my
Intention all along
© 2009 Peggy Pendleton
Know that I went peacefully in my sleep
Of my own accord and timing, by my own
Hand which could no longer pound the keys
Pull the ropes, the weeds, the rabbit out of the hat
Let it be said that "she was a woman who had great timing"
Take what you want and we'll say I gave it to you long ago
It will not matter to me now, and who's to say it wasn't my
Intention all along
© 2009 Peggy Pendleton
Mother's Love
It is her image of herself as better than us all
We mortal daughters, imperfect, malleable, left
Like a poorly smithed shoe leaving a limping foal
Always wanting more than she was willing to give
Sold cheaply for a reputation as a good horse trader
To the man in the white coat and hat with the PhD,
The country club, the Cabin in the private gated canyon
So exclusive were you that you would never let yourself in.
© 2009 Peggy Pendleton
We mortal daughters, imperfect, malleable, left
Like a poorly smithed shoe leaving a limping foal
Always wanting more than she was willing to give
Sold cheaply for a reputation as a good horse trader
To the man in the white coat and hat with the PhD,
The country club, the Cabin in the private gated canyon
So exclusive were you that you would never let yourself in.
© 2009 Peggy Pendleton
Daughters Are...
Daughters are their mother's memories of themselves
Trapped for a moment like a bug in amber then
Left for dead or worshipped like the god she is
To herself, the creator, the first mover, the one
And only after death comes and goes and
The amber of your mother's memory of
Herself becomes clear to you
Do you realize
You loved her
©2009 Peggy Pendleton
Trapped for a moment like a bug in amber then
Left for dead or worshipped like the god she is
To herself, the creator, the first mover, the one
And only after death comes and goes and
The amber of your mother's memory of
Herself becomes clear to you
Do you realize
You loved her
©2009 Peggy Pendleton
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Details
Stone, a new leaf from the Chestnut
Trees, dirt work done on
Ones bare knees
Dirt under the nails and into
Lines of the hand like dark rivers
The tiny cracks the tributaries
Stones the color of rust, color of
Weathered wood, color of mother's dead blue eyes but warmer as the sky
A pink like baby's cheek
The leaf a pale lime green
Stripes in stone meander like
the throbbing at the throat
©2009 Peggy Pendleton
Friday, May 1, 2009
Alone With Longing
Life left me alone with longing
Pretending I need nothing more
Knowing why I am unloved
At heart an unmet need like hunger
Eats at me and I grow fat on pain
Leaking tears like famished babies
Old, alone, no longer wanting joy
Cracking jokes that no one hears
Waiting for the end of one more
Days of empty longing deaths
Freedom from this rending sorrow
Nothing mends nor ever will
This heart keeps beating without
Meaning why awaken to do nothing
Lasting or redeeming transformation
All the work with time undone
And in the end left to crumble
Alone at last with longing
©2009 Peggy Pendleton
Pretending I need nothing more
Knowing why I am unloved
At heart an unmet need like hunger
Eats at me and I grow fat on pain
Leaking tears like famished babies
Old, alone, no longer wanting joy
Cracking jokes that no one hears
Waiting for the end of one more
Days of empty longing deaths
Freedom from this rending sorrow
Nothing mends nor ever will
This heart keeps beating without
Meaning why awaken to do nothing
Lasting or redeeming transformation
All the work with time undone
And in the end left to crumble
Alone at last with longing
©2009 Peggy Pendleton
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)