Age Before Beauty

Not long ago
At a dark and remote
Bus stop
An old woman sat
Next to me and told me of her one
Fairytale romance

She spoke of moonlit nights with blinding stars
An enchanted dance
Love poems that
Compared her face to the sun

“I felt just like a princess”
She said when her white knight
Rode into town in a
U-Haul to save her from the
Dungeon in her parent’s castle
She was sick of all the hassle
Slaving away
Day after day
For her nasty mother and
Vile sisters

I was only half paying attention
Looking mostly in the other direction, and
Waiting for the end when she would say
Something about living happily...

Instead things took a grim turn
Deep in the night
No witness
But the empty new moon
He forced her wrists
Behind her back and bit into her
Apple breasts
Filling her with
Slow acting poisons and
Stealing her power 

She drove a hairpin into his
Arm somewhere On the103 between
Chester and Mahone Bay
“He’d have died if I’d had it my way”
He left her there on the side of the road
No choice but to hitchhike home
And work her fingers to the bone
Forever weary of the wolves who
Hunger for sweet flesh

I froze when she
Kissed my mouth
Ran her wrinkled hands
Through my hair
And walked out into the darkness
Her side-bent thumb stretched
Out to catch
the last ride of the night
 

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CrowPieD's picture

never put urself down

Young man, i was sad to read your description of yourself:

"I'm trying to improve my skills as a writer, it is a skill I'm sure I will need in the future, I'm not good yet, but I will be someday, I hope if nothing else my poems inspire people to write, or to think about life, I'm thankful for any critiques good and or bad. I am now attending Saint Mary's University. I am a little bit older, and hopefully wiser as well. "

BUT what a surprise, u words come from the right places, i am no editor, critic witers but all, i can say is;

there is no rules to poetry, there is no words who are better then the one who come from inside you, there is nio such formula or proses AND ALL that soul breaking peoples teach you about poetry or at schools, yes sure, there is the old fashion, methods etc...

but who say, except you, that you have to be another ones of those, another formulas, a copies, be yourself, your words come from your heart,m and the more you will keep writing, the more, there will forms beauty, and sense, but most of all, will show, your inner self, your true beauty, so come on, i notice u have no write for a long time, it is a greaqt shame, don`t waste or put ursellf down, true genius are unique, trust urself, don`t look too much into other peoples words thinking there are better.

there is no such thing are better but different, and take pride in it.

, i have complete faith in you. poetry is freedom, poetry is pure love, the rest is.....B****ts. listen to u heart and u soul, when u do, the two will work in perfect harmony.

Herve


Visual poet/ Libertine lost in a labyrinth of complexities, methaphors, searching for the essence/ Ink of life/ death to spell my syphilistic words on the page/ screen.       

robbie's picture

Thank you so much for your

Thank you so much for your kind words and encouragement! You have a bright and beautiful soul. Your words truly have meant a lot to me. It is funny. I wrote those words when I was younger than I am now. 10 years ago probably. I was very different then, and yet also the same. Bringing it to my attention has made me realize how insecure I must have been! =) and change from within is a very slow and intricate process.