Dishearten

The Poem-A-Day challenge today, by Poets Aside, brought us an interesting prompt -  a word coined by Shakespeare (each poet's choice) should be the title and the theme of our poem. I'd have never imagined that more than 1700 words we commonly use today were created by Shakespeare. That inspired me, because I do, too, love to create words!  People look at me funny sometimes, buy hey, if Shakespeare could do it, so can I! :)

If you're interested in seeing some of Mr. Shakes' words, check them here: http://www.shakespeare-online.com/biography/wordsinvented.html

For this poem I chose "dishearten".

Dishearten

Some individuals just like to dishearten you,
you might have tasted that bitter feeling, too.
Some creatures are soulless, I don't mean
they are mean – no! They are just empty,
therefore they know less, they do less good,
they hurt more often, and they like to
dishearten you, and me, and the kids along.
I call those species “dishearteners”.
If you come across a disheartener today,
just dispatch the gremlin away!
Because to dishearten is really easy,
and it can be confused with good intentions,
so you may not realize the deep thought
behind the words of a disheartener.
It may come in different ways, like
hypocrisy, envy, harsh criticism and
the worst of all that throws you against the wall:
pretended good advice for life.
Those who unwillingly dishearten you
start saying that you'd better be, do
or have it (whatever it is)
some other way.
And that's how they discourage you
from being, doing, and having it the way
you feel like. They wring your confidence
and daunt you from living the life you choose.
If you meet a troll like that when you go for a stroll
and it says that this way you won't amount to anything,
tell it to go take a hike, because you live
your life the way you like.

- Rosangela C. Taylor

Disguised Damage

Four people

smile.

Two people

incomplete.

Two people

decide to meet.

Two people

have fun while

two people

drag their feet.

Two people

fall in love

and awake

for life.

One person

finds it out.

One person

knows nothing.

Two break inside.

Three broken hearts.

Two people fall

sick. Disillusion.

One person forgives.

Three people

drag their feet

while one person

lives.

Four people smile.

Two people still

incomplete.

Four different lives,

one need.

Two loving hearts

damaged.

But everything

looks good...

at the end

Four people smile

and three pretend

for a lifetime while.

- Rosangela C. Taylor

Wrong Label

And the Poem-A-Day Challenge continues... today the 21st day with the prompt "what I am" and/or "what I am not".

And here we go...



Wrong Label

What I am, nobody knows
Where I stand or
where I go
nobody can see.

Not even me.
Because I transmute
often, I change route.

You think I am what you see
but you know nothing about me.
You are part of my story
belong to my inventory
but you never fought my battles.
You didn’t rebuild my castles.

You just fantasize.
And you envy my paradise,
you vaguely see my treks,
you don’t know about my wrecks
and yet, you judge my acts.

You don’t know who I am
and you don’t give a damn!

You know nothing about
what’s in and out
of my changing views
from the lowest grounds
to my highest hills.
From my spring valleys
to my pitch-dark alleys.

And you label me,
anyway. As if I were
a box of Lipton tea.
You are unaware
but I am not
what you thought.
I am not a finished product,
ready and packed.
Me, you cannot predict.

Where I am today and where I go
remains an incognito.
Who I am now won’t be tomorrow
that’s life’s sweetest marrow!

I am the expedition –
offbeat,
unique.
A special edition.
Or the expeditionary –
unpredictable,
mystical.
A visionary.

No delimitation
or definition.
There is no end of me.
I am just free to be.

– Rosangela C. Taylor

A Daring Wish

I'm truly enjoying the month of poetry with the Writer's Digest challenge, a Poem-A-Day. Poetic Asides dared me today to write a daring poem. How couldn't I take a dare??  ;P  Here it is...

A Daring Wish

I know you wouldn't dare

because you no longer care;

you know I would be there

and even what I'd wear.

Would it be unfair,

or just another err?

That yellow dress, I almost bare,

long black hair flying in the air...

I bet you would care

again, if you did dare.

Bursting again, in that flare

feelings that are so rare!

But you are not aware

anymore of the glare

that belongs to our affair.

It's still there, I swear,

while you, in that chair,

daydream our soul-repair.

Lost, hurt, you just stare,

because we're no longer a pair.

Maybe, secretly, you still care -

but think you cannot declare

'cause you are too square.

Oh, how I wish you would dare.

- Rosangela Taylor

P.S. Here is the link in case you would like to share your poems, too! http://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/poetic-asides

Only if I still loved you

If I still loved you

I'd write you another poem.

Not like any of'em,

but a poem about you.

And about us.

The rise of a sentiment,

and the so imminent

destructive fuss.

We took risks in those days,

remember?

January to December

jumbling our ways.

We were kids inside

and we just followed the heart.

We knew the art

of going with the tide.

The poem would gather

our moments of laughter,

the magic during and after

the bliss of being together.

Your boyish personality,

your strong passion and desire

for more life, more fire.

Your best quality.

One verse would be like this:

Among all the experiences

and despite our differences

we lived in true bliss...

And I'd write about your smile

and the way you'd look at me

how you'd make it easy to be

so alive, so wild in a little while.

The poem would refresh your mind

about all the things we lived for:

burning desires, love, fun, and more.

It would remind

you and me

that we might never find

a better way to be soul-free.

I'd write you a poem,

if I still loved you.

- Rosangela Taylor

She keeps smiling

Nobody believed her

but she insisted smiling

and saying there was no

secret.

“What's your secret?”

was not the right question

to ask, since if

there were one it

couldn't, obviously,

be revealed.

Or, it'd no longer be a

secret.

And she had one. Much

certainly.

At least one. A good,

audacious, hot one.

A red, passionate secret
that kept her

young, joyful,

wise like a witch,

brilliant like a goddess.

She lived for it.

And she kept smiling

and saying there was no

secret.

She died 

for that secret.

And she never
told us what it was.

But you and I -

we know,

She still has a

secret.

Yes, she's a secret.
And she keeps smiling. 

Rosangela Taylor

How can I not?

How can I not?


You show me the bad
you try to change my act
you think I cannot think
and I turn you off in a blink.

You – you rob me,
straight face!
That is not a fee,
there is no trace
of liberty;
it’s not my free-will
participation
or collaboration.
It’s a bill
for distortion.
Corruption.

You lie when you say
this is the land of free.
Nothing you know about freedom
when you abide to a kingdom.

How can I not resist
to this huge farce?
How can I exist
like a harnessed horse?

Rosangela Taylor
(for Writer's Digest Poem-A-Day Challenge, April/15 - Theme, "Resistance". Photo also by Rosangela Taylor)