Saturday, 16 June 2012

Rows at bedtime





Shivering
Alone
Sat in darkness.
Heart drumming an angry beat
I hate you
Jaw clenched
Determined 
“Never to give in.”
Exhausted
Desperate for bed
Longing 
to sink within its warmth
completely wrapped in softness.
To lay down my head
allow myself to tumble
into deep slumber.
Then I smile
I hear it
You
No, not calling my name.
Nor attempting to be friends
No, just you 
snoring like a pig.
And I know its safe
to come back.



9 comments:

  1. Why do I think this is priceless? I'm smiling...the harshness and the tenderness, it's in all of us but you put it in such a lovely way.
    xx's

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you Marsha .. I enjoyed the pain and the pleasure in writing it :)) xx

      Delete
  2. I cannot help feeling you are in danger and suffering, as the words you combine here are very powerful and moving.

    Do you need rescuing??

    I realise this is poetic license but even still, you're creating a sadness, an empathy within me too for escape and release.


    Well done Ruth. Amazing as ever.

    xxx

    ReplyDelete
  3. Hey Ruth,
    I've been reading a few of your poems for a while now, ah, and I "liked" your facebook page somehow...
    And it is this poem that really stands out for me.
    That snoring...means...relief...peace...temporary release! Ah, but too temporary...and here come the egg shells....the broken glass...crunching, barefoot...
    Who feels it knows it.
    I guess I'm interpreting your poem from my experience, so maybe I'm entirely misleading myself with my interpretation of your words...
    A question: do you think we, as writers, deliberately, yet subconsciously seek difficult situations/people as a source of creative 'necessity'; or do you think when we mistakenly find ourselves in crazy situations, because we write, we write about it?
    Or is it neither...life is life, is life...it happens: and we write...
    I was asking myself this the other day. Since early childhood, I've always been drawn to or immersed in the unconventional, to varying degrees0 the bizarre, the traumatic...that makes no sense..."drawn" to the traumatic... but in my writing, I am bored if there is no reality, and reality always seems to have its beautiful chaos, if I can call it that:
    It's so much better in words than experiencing it. To turn panic, pain, fear into a beautiful poem takes skill.

    Well apart from my long-winded way of saying I love your poems...
    (I never planned to write that, it just flowed out..I'm tired and will finish now)...wherever you are, Ruth, I hope you're having a beautiful day :)
    Love&Inspiration, Vee X

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Hi Vee I know we have obviously corresponded since this comment as you wrote that wonderful book review for me .. but I have only just seen this .. Thanks for the feedback always welcome and Hi hope you are well xx

      Delete
  4. Hi Ruth. I love this. I am going through a similar issue right now so this struck a chord (or two):)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Giggle.. well all I can say is what I have experienced.. "This too shall pass" .. hugs xx

      Delete