How to unravel this sentience of displacement;
Feeling as an object mislaid, discarded,
Forgotten with the keys and single gloves and
Tooth-marked pacifiers.
The sense that I am close to the X,
That the booty is there and me with no shovel.
Longing to both find the treasure and be one.
The irony is painful.
I cannot decipher this frustrated longing,
This impatient want.
Though my talents soar, my worth seems to drop,
Until my red-rimmed eyes cease to trickle
The tears that savor like salt on the corners
of my lips.
I would for one day gladly trade
Amusing wit for vain beauty,
Clever converse for sidelong glances,
A generous soul for tangible flesh.
So cruel sometimes to be this gender,
To have merit measured by mirrors.
Let me have the trick mirrors-
The ones that make me disappear.
If you especially appreciated this author, we'll be happy to show you where you can find more of their poems
(c) 1999 Wendy LaTulippe Please respect the rights of the author and Passions in Poetry. If you would like to use this poem on your own web page, please contact the Author. Thank you.
Your poem is wonderful. Courageous and honest. I understand it completely. You are God's gift and you are beautiful and talented. Best Wishes
Jaklyn
Just like she said, It's a woman's poem.....And as close to reality as you can put in words!!! EXCELLENT!!
All Visitor Comments on this poem have been posted by people who wanted to let the author know the poem touched their hearts. If you would like to leave a comment of your own, please click the Vote button in the Response Panel above.
