A Perfect 300

On December 14, 2020December 13, 2020 By spaige08In funny, humor, poetry, Uncategorized, writingLeave a comment

In college, I took a poetry class. Every week we had to write poetry based on something. I do not remember the prompt given at the time, but the poem below happened.

‘A Perfect 300’ is the highest score you can obtain in bowling. I have never gotten one, but at the time I worked in the campus bowling alley and would get pretty close. Now I bowl like I am a kid, I need bumpers to get anywhere close to 100.

Here is the poem that formed in my head 20 years ago:

A Perfect 300

S-T-R-I-K-E!

The pins fall and I am putty to this game-

When your roundness returns

I slip my fingers within your

Pefectly cut slits-

My other hand caresses you and sets you up-

This is your next attempt

At a perfect score-

My right and left feet move in rhythm-

As I glide across the waxed surface

And await your climaxing response-

S-T-R-I-K-E!

That is the lucious sound I like to hear-

When you hit the precise spot

And I smile with childlike innocence-

My content coming from you-

Again, you return-

This time I rub you against the flannel fabric

And make sure you are nice and slick

Ready for your next try

At giving me sheer elation and euphoria-

I stare at the nude color of your goal-

The pocket as to which you are to enter

“One more time, baby,” I whisper-

S-T-R-I-K-E!

You enter smoothly where we aimed-

You barely touching the bulging white rod

Wiggling with gaiety

You swerve and make sure all ten are down-

When you return

Your holes are bare

And we are both relieved-

It is our glory that is celebrated

With you making a bond with me-

As we pack and leave

with a perfect 300-

So, if you read some sexual connotation in this poem, you are absolutely correct. I took bowling and used it as a metaphor for sex. Hey, I was a college student, of course sex was on my mind. I hope you found it somewhat humorous as well.

Thanks for reading!

Poetry and Covid-19: “Droplets of Red”

On April 22, 2020April 21, 2020 By spaige08In death, depression, mental health, mental health awareness, mental illness, poetry, self harm, suicide, Uncategorized, writingLeave a comment

I tried to remain positive but, hey, all of our lives have been turned upside down and I am fully convinced we are living somewhere in a cross between Groundhog’s Day and The Twilight Zone. To say I wasn’t back to the thoughts and feelings of last year would be a complete lie. It’s as if I never left.

Because of this I have been having some thoughts, bad thoughts, ideations, things I haven’t thought about first when I was 18 and then again at 35. I’ve expressed some of this in the poem below (again, not sure where the rhyming came from):

Droplets of Red

Eyelids heavy,

eyes darting beneath,

left to right,

What else would

happen on this

wretched night?

–

One body,

Two bodies,

lain on the floor

Within a

few days

are many more.

–

For them it was

the virus that

took them alive,

for me it was

the mental pain,

a plunging nosedive.

–

Ashamed

to admit this is a

selfish disease,

trying to think of

others as I ignore

my brain’s pleas.

–

Makes me

solidify my guilt for

feeling this way,

but we all have

valid feelings,

isn’t that what ‘they’ say?

–

I have felt

loss so great

in the last week or two,

my career, a loved one

and myself

to name a few.

–

I do not

deserve sympathy

for my grief,

It is so

selfish to think

that this would be brief.

–

My sanity, a

tiny grain of sand

on this lonely beach,

That blows in

the wind and

is just out of reach.

–

And now I look

down and see

crimson red,

and for the first time

in a long time thinking,

maybe, I should be dead.

–

No longer

contributing to my

family’s worth,

pondering

so much especially

my birth.

–

The bitch within

screams I am

no longer needed,

And at times

I believe

she has succeeded.

–

Living last year

severely depressed

still feeling the same,

There is no one

I more despise

than me insane.

–

I can’t explain all the

thoughts that swirl

in my head,

so I express my

internal pain with

droplets of red.

–

*Disclaimer: I am under the watchful eye of both my psychiatrist and therapist. If you are self-harming or considering suicide, please reach out to someone. There is always help. Text CONNECT to 741741, the Crisis Text Line. Or call the Self Harm Hotline at 1-800-DONT CUT (1-800-366-8388)* or the Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255

“Reflection”

On November 26, 2019November 26, 2019 By spaige08In depression, mental health, mental health awareness, mental illness, poetry, self harm, Uncategorized, writingLeave a comment

When I used to look into the mirror,

I saw a happy, sunshine smile, confidence, compassion and empathy,

Colossal amounts of love, being loved, giving love,

I saw strength the trifecta; muscles, grin lines, intelligence,

And then it all drifted away on a stormy wind.

Now I see hatred with my bitch taking the lead,

On a chariot, riding fiercely with her friends, negativity and loathing,

I see the emptiness in my lack of emotion (laughing no more)

In my eyes that used to shine it’s grassy green hue (now forlorn),

I see my weakness’ growing in numbers,

They prevail over any good I once saw.

I see the scars, tiny slashes on my wrist,

The memory of the internal pain, guilt, and yes, some shame,

The urge rising to repeat the action,

The bitch yelling I deserve the agony, the suffering,

More scarlet droplets trailing down my arm,

And the repetitive thought of how much worse will it get.

The reflection I see, is not a happy one, not a sad one, it is a blank one,

One that feels nothing, embraces apathy,

I am not sure it will change, although I know it did before,

What was that? With pills, therapy and self care I’ll thrive?

Ha, I am doing all those and still nothing changes, fight no more.

With the bitch infinitely cackling, I now take on advice given many times:

Acceptance is key; I invite you in, on my sofa, to envelope me, for eternity.

“Invisible” – A Poem

On October 28, 2019October 28, 2019 By spaige08In depression, mental health, mental illness, poetry, Uncategorized, writingLeave a comment

I’ve begun to write poetry again. I thought it was a single solitary day a couple of weeks back when I posted a poem, Hidden Pain, on my struggling with mental illness, but it isn’t. When I write poetry, it means I am not doing well. Something is off and I don’t know what and frankly, that frightens me. But like all the many times, years, decades before, I will bounce back (even if I can’t believe it right now).

This past Saturday was especially rough and led to the following poem:

Invisible

Pieces and parts,

Broken and torn,

Scattered like dirt,

Upon the filthy floor so worn,

Walked on, moved and kicked,

Sucked up and tossed,

One day present,

The next day lost.

A microscopic piece of soil,

Flows down the drain,

Quickly gone,

No remnants remain,

The water falls,

Descending me further,

Leaving my home,

Towards the sewer.

Asking too much,

Not asking enough,

“What do you want from me?!”

Can’t be strong enough,

Whining, yelling,

Calling my name,

I see you, I hear you,

I feel so ashamed.

Always putting myself last,

Pouring from an empty cup,

Who will be there

To help pick me up?

I’ve fought for so long,

Pleasing all of you,

Neglecting my wants,

To appease you two.

I walk away,

Down the street,

A little further,

Watching my feet,

I keep going,

Wondering when,

I’ll hear from you,

Asking me where I am.

How long will it take,

Before you notice I left?

Walking, wondering,

Breath after breath,

A minute, an hour,

A mile or two,

What does it feel like,

When no one is looking for you?

Angry and empty,

(Maybe loved and wanted?)

Crying inside,

So tremendously disappointed,

Sometimes it’s hard to know,

When you’re treated so poor,

When you become invisible,

Alone and ignored.

Mental Health Monday: Poetry “Hidden Pain”

On October 7, 2019September 30, 2019 By spaige08In anxiety, depression, mental health, mental illness, poetry, strength, Uncategorized, writing2 Comments

I had a rough day early last week. When I am having one of those days, I write poetry:

Hidden Pain

I am good at masking my pain,

It is a lesson I learned long ago,

Smile,

For the camera,

With a friend,

Along at work,

Hiding the pain that never ends.

I am lonely all the time,

Even with family and friends,

Alone,

When the sun rises,

As the wind blows,

Amongst company,

The negative thoughts always flow.

I am an expert at falsities,

Creating an alternate reality,

Growth,

Shame that has prevailed,

Hatred that boils,

Losing myself once again,

Being stuck in internal turmoil.

I am beginning to think this is it,

I am meant to internally suffer,

Pain,

Mental, like no other,

A black hole of sorts,

An emotional anguish,

Forever a ring of retort.

I am tired of constantly feeling this way,

So drained of strength that I seem to portray,

Tired,

When the sun has risen,

As the faux smile is reborn,

Over and over,

My body slashed and torn.

S. Paige Writes:

Category: poetry

A Perfect 300

Poetry and Covid-19: “Droplets of Red”

Droplets of Red

“Reflection”

“Invisible” – A Poem

Invisible

Mental Health Monday: Poetry “Hidden Pain”

Hidden Pain