It's been a tough month. All kinds of very un-romantic, un-pleasant, un-imaginative stuff has happened. I think it’s affect my creativity. For example, all of these sentences are passive – yuck! So, rather than stress myself out – yet again, I figured I’d share a bit of poetry. Some of the poems are older, some newer. Some reflect my personal life and feelings, so reflects that of other real or fictional characters. So, here you go – a few poems by Marie Haynes. This first one, “A Woman’s Ways” I wrote after listening to my husband and some of his buddies discuss how unfathomable women were.
A Woman's Ways
A woman's hands multi-task.
She can hold a baby while flipping pancakes,
Fold laundry while answering the phone,
Polish furniture while hugging a child.
A woman's heart unfathomably resilient.
She gives it away to one man early in life,
only to grow older and share it with others
but never loses the commitment to the First.
A woman's needs grow in complexity.
She craves care and attention when her strength fails
Touching, caressing when hot tears flow,
Forgiveness when confusion clouds emotion.
“After the Children” and “A Husband’s Response” reflect not only some of my own demons, but the fears of many women. Perhaps we should remember our accomplishments instead of dwelling on unreachable goals.
After the Children
I close my eyes and remember - a 22-inch waist, firm, high breasts easily filling a C-cup, long, slender legs filtering into rounded hips and a smooth, taunt behind. I remember and think that it still should be. Now, I stand naked before the mirror. Seeing the monstrosity I have become. that once tiny waist, thickened by childbirth, pudging over protruding hips. The breasts, once so high and firm, sink downward, stretched by gallons of milk. The legs, still long, but pock marked with tiny balls of fat. I shake my head and pull on the pink, fuzzy robe to hide my middle aged shame.
A husband's response I look at her eyes and wonder at her shame, Doesn’t she realize her beauty? I remember her 18 year old body - young and firm yet awkward within itself. I remember her boyish hips, her virgin breasts. I see her now, clutching that damned pink robe. God I hate that robe! I know what jewels lie beneath the fuzz. A waist beautifully rounded, a tribute to the sons she bore. Breasts full of maturity and softness, once a source of nourishment and strength. Long, full legs which carried her down the aisle, to me carried her through poverty and sickness loss and betrayal. Those legs stood beside me, supported me, wrapped around my waist In joy, fulfilment and glory. Her beauty of spirit and body Humble me.
In my other life, I’m an educator. Five years ago, we started school on August 14 and then experienced one of the hottest August and Septembers on record. I actually ended up in an emergency room one night due to heat exhaustion and dehydration. Let’s all start a national campaigned for air condition in all schools!
Sweat drips from my nose and Paints matching crescents beneath my pits,
Flattens my once stylish “-do.”
Time blends to dull the edges of past and future And all that lives between.
But I am a professional.
Students depend on me.
Keep cool Don’t loose your head Don’t say anything stupid Which might damage their psyche. S
till, all I want, all I desire, all that lives in my mind Doesn’t live or think.
Nor does it ask questions I just answered 5 minutes ago.
No, all I want is nothing short of a miracle.
All I want now, at the height of the computer age The technology age The gizmo and gadget age
AN AIR CONDITIONED SCHOOL
Hope you’ve all enjoyed the poetry, and next month, I promise, I’ll write something original and thought provoking. In the meantime, I’m just going to cuddle up with my little doggy, a glass of wine and a good book!