Thursday, April 19, 2012

Quick poem for ya about the frustrations of being unpublished.

Originally published last fall. 

When she spears me with an you're-an-idiot look over the rims of her glasses,
and I end up at home hours later,
Frowning naked in the mirror while finishing off a bag of peanut m&ms, 
My chocolate fingerprints evidence for a diet forensic pathologist,
I slide to the bottom of the tub,
Let the water rain down on my convulsing body to bathe my tears.
Yet, the pain remains and now I have a stuffy nose.
Then, mentally, I finger my goals, 
 My dreams deferred and I curse aloud. 

Damn! Flannery O'Connor and her Southern genius on the human condition.
Damn! Meg Wolitzer and her Jewish feminist brilliance.
Damn! Damn! Damn! Stephenie Meyer for being a fluke success.

Buried beneath the weight of words;
I take heart, wipe away black tears, 
Kiss my daughter, the next generation feminist;
A Buffy...not a Bella.
A Buffy battling the Bella's of the world.
A roundhouse kick to her pining female foil.
An uppercut to Her male-dependent prose.
Because my daughter deserves an example of me. 
She needs to know how to defeat the enemy,
And stake inferiority,
While wearing stylish shoes.


  1. Funny how expletives dissipate frustration. Blog on!

  2. Your shoe collection is impressive. I'm amazed every time you post a picture.

    1. Thank you. Got another pair to post sometime this month. =)

  3. A double-therapy moment - the verbal release & a visual treat... love the shoes!

  4. Nice! Although I fear I'm probably one of the Bellas of the world, albeit with about 100 extra pounds!

    1. I guess there's a time and place to be "Bella", but I just wish she'd grown a little over the 4 books. ya know?

      Glad you found both of my blogs.



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