Siren Song

Well before you read this you should know that I most certainly did not, in any way shape of form, write this myself.
I could wish.
It's my second favorite poem ever (I think maybe, although being me, I like an awful lot of poetry and will probably feel horribly guilty about saying this in a few minutes) and it's by Margaret Atwood, who I don't usually like. I WON'T feel guilty for saying that bit.
But anyway, this particular poem...
Just read it.
And if you don't like it, tell me why and I will sit there for an hour and tell you why it's a good poem.

SIREN SONG

This is the one song everyone
would like to learn: the song
that is irresistable:
the song that forces men
to leap overboard in squadrons
even though they see the beached skulls
the song nobody knows
because anyone who has heard it
is dead, and the others can't remember
Shall I tell you the secret
and if I do, will you get me
out of this bird suit?
I don't enjoy it here
squatting on this island
looking picturesque and mythical
with these two feathery maniacs,
I don't enjoy singing
this trio, fatal and valuable.
I will tell the secret to you,
to you, only to you.
Come closer. This song
is a cry for help: Help me!
Only you, only you can,
you are unique
At last. Alas
it is a boring song
but it works every time.

Envy

You are not for me
you are like
evening gowns and
scented soaps. Other girls
are at home in that world
but I will always be
a pretender.
I am a swamp girl;
I trudge
up mountainsides,
I have
adventures,
I am
satisfied so long
as I don't look too long
at what I'm missing.
You are not for me.
(that doesn't mean I don't
smell the soaps
rub my cheek against
satin and lace
dream of the taste
of your smile)

.........................
I a little bit hate my life right now. Don't mind me.

Loving You Uselessly

You are silent

and sad

and I wish

I could make you smile.

And I know

you have woes

but I wish

you'd forget for a while.

What would it take?

I would spin you a story

of worlds far away

and pour you a glass

of the sunniest day.

If it would help.

If I thought it would help.

If I had any hope it would help.

So what can I do?

If only I knew

I would search the world over

and under and through

if only I knew...

Rain on My Roof

...........

In December it should be snow
small and sweet
five pointed stars in all the colours
of forgetting.
Instead
the clear clarity
of rain
relentlessly taps
at the window
Remember.
Why is it rain
always tastes
of alone
where the quiet flakes
you tilt your head to catch
are a whisper
of comfort?

A Slow Kind of Suicide

Once I thought I could win you over
if only I were a little less
me.
So I stopped
forgetting to brush my hair
wearing the same shirt three days in a row
laughing so loudly
being a tomboy.
I got rid of the grass-stains and scabs
and bought a bra.
I put moisturizer on my hands
so they’d be soft
if you ever touched them.
It smelled nice but not like me.
I didn’t like it
and you didn’t notice.

Once I thought I could win you over
if I made it so you couldn’t live
without me.
I tried to be
understanding
loyal
unwavering
loving
the best friend you’d ever had.
It was hard because sometimes you were selfish
sometimes you were cruel
sometimes I wanted to kiss you so badly
that I hated you
for not noticing.

Once I thought I could win you over
because you put your arms around me
and said you loved me.
Of course you did.
Why wouldn’t you?
I took years to turn myself into someone
you could love.
My arms always linger a little
when you let me go.
I wonder if this time you will bend your head
make this more than friendship
but you never do
because you never notice.

In the end it doesn’t matter
if I win you over or not
because I can’t forgive you
any more than I can stop loving you.
It should be enough that you need me
to love you
to be with you
to go on being who I’m not
it should be worth it.
But it’s not because
I killed myself for you
and you never noticed.

......................................

I may be getting a little old for teenage angst. I wrote this a few years ago (my last year of highschool, I think) and...ah well.

to a complete stranger

Butterflies?
Girl you give me
kangaroos.
Glance that glance
this way again -
I want to write
your smile.