Tag Archives: poetry

Mad Girl’s Love Song

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; 
I lift my lids and all is born again. 
(I think I made you up inside my head.) 

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red, 
And arbitrary blackness gallops in: 
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead. 

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed 
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane. 
(I think I made you up inside my head.) 

God topples from the sky, hell’s fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan’s men: 
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead. 

I fancied you’d return the way you said, 
But I grow old and I forget your name. 
(I think I made you up inside my head.) 

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again. 
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead. 
(I think I made you up inside my head.) ‘

by Sylvia Plath

My part time obsession with Sylvia Plath began when someone in a poetry group compared my poetry to Plath’s.  She meant it in the best way possible. How was she to know I had heard Plath’s name during my lifetime but had never really read her work.  Of course, after being compared to a poet who is considered amazing,  I had to find out all I could.  Sadly, Plath’s suicide has made her famous and her writing tends to be overlooked.  It was a joy for me to buy The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath.  I am honored that anyone has read my poems and compared my writing to someone like Plath. Enjoy this poem.

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Liars

There will always be 

my side,  your side , 

with the truth in between. 

 Oh, but the truth can be

manipulated.

Memories revised, facts unsaid,

minds that change.

It’s our lies that never falter.

Wrapping  us in comfort.

When all else falls apart,

 they cradle our heads,

lull us to sleep at night. 

When is enough ever enough? 

I hear you saying, 

“I can’t recall.”

No more. I am done.

I cannot accept 

your recollection 

when you claim forgetfulness.

I’m a liar.

So are you.

I can sleep with my fable.

Written for Yeah Write

It Was Fun

Riding around, top down, under the sun.

Your smile, your style, you could have been the one.

It wasn’t love but it was fun.

Laughter fades, sunlight turns to rain, look what we’ve become.

Driving away, leaving me behind, it can’t be undone.

Looking back now, I see clearly somehow.

It wasn’t love but it was fun.

 

Written by: Donetta Sifford for Yeah Write 305

September

 

September has always been

the hardest month for me.

I walk these dirt roads

smelling the honeysuckle

feeling the sun on my back

the air slightly shifting cooler.

Leaves secretly changing.

Red, orange, yellow, and brown

splashing over the mountains.

She died the year before

the Twin  Towers crumbled.

Still, for me, she cannot be gone

no more than gravity or the moon.

The Appalachian Mountains

shares it’s beauty everywhere.

I see gray skies and black clouds.

September has always been

the hardest month for me.

Understated.

 

Written for Yeah Write

 

 

It’s Me, Not You 

I’m just going through the motions.

Void of any real emotion.

Suicide is a selfish notion that I entertain.

Hear you asking what’s the matter?

Saying how you miss my laughter.

I know the love you’re after I can’t give away.

Find myself saying words I hate like it’s me, not you.

I know I’ll miss you when it’s too late and it’ll be my loss.

Swear to you if I knew the reasons for the changes you are seeing

I’d gladly unload my heavy burdens at your feet.

Standing at the edge of nothing.

Feel my heart ripping open and I can’t stop the pain.

You will see I was haunting my life.

Untouchable, unlovable and always on the outside staring in.

Maybe tomorrow will be better and I can love you more than I ever have.

So you’ll know it was I that was sick and you can carry on when I’m gone.
Written for Yeah Write