Poetry Thursday

Scarves floating like ghosts
Twirling and twirling
tickling my knees
silken pink slippers
playing gypsy dancer

Gossamer wings to fly and flit
petals waiting on the wind floating softly
fairy boats on the water
dappled sunlight playing warm on white stones
mermaid sunning blue-green wetscales
Ophelia's petal hair singing sweetly siren songs of Secret Gardens
follow Robin redbreast to the iron-keyed door
where swings are twining vines
swallowed in sweet scent
of pollen bees buzzing

And Leprechans have houses of gold
where the rainbow ends.
© Robyn Fenner

I decided to copycat from Gel and podcast an audio of myself reading this poem. I'm a bit nervous. My first time and all. I hope it's ok.

Be forwarned. I sort of sound like a 12 year old girl. I don't think my voice ever made it to puberty. Anyway, this is the audio recording of the poem I wrote entitled 'Sleepy'.

This is where I lived in my mind as a child and even as a teenager. An escape mechanism for the unspeakable things that were being done to me. It was where I would go when my grandfather would molest me. This is where I went during the four times I was raped. It was my refuge after beatings from my parents that were so bad I'd wind up bloody and bruised. My therapist calls it "dissociation" and that most severely abused children have some sort of mechanism they use to dissociate themselves from what is going on around them or being done to them. This was/is my secret place. In my childhood I can't remember living anywhere else.



Anonymous L. Monique said...

I think I did something wrong with the autolink (I was just trying to post a comment, sorry), but what I wanted to say, was thank you for sharing such an intimate glimpse into your life. I love how whimsical it is, but your wordchoice hints that everything IS just a facade... I don't want to overanalyze, but I enjoyed reading. I hope it has healed you just a little bit more.

(I have a poem on my regular blog - lmonique.wordpress.com - called Survivors Poem. I wrote it for the abuse carnival. Check it out if you'd like. I don't know about you, but it helps me to read others words.)

January 18, 2007 2:19 PM  
Blogger Poet with a Day Job said...

Wow - some serious snafu with blogger there!

Anyway, I'm in now, and just wanted to say I really loved the sound of these lines, very much:

"where swings are twining vines
swallowed in sweet scent"

nice work1

January 18, 2007 3:26 PM  
Blogger twilightspider said...

Your place is beautiful - beauty you obviously needed.

Thank you for sharing your words and your story.

January 18, 2007 6:26 PM  
Anonymous GeL said...

(I can tell your voice is that of an adult woman, so don't worry. Your voice floats like the places you describe in your written words. The quality of your voice is gentle and soothing, as I'd imagine you soothing yourself.The wispy gentle quality to your voice reminds me, even more poignantly than your written words, of the young girl who was attacked repeatedly. I cry when I read your poetry. For me, that's good writing, because I don't "just cry" at anything I read on this topic. (I have that survivor fence up all too often...)

P.S. Looks like Blogger ate my first comment. grrrrrr

January 19, 2007 5:30 AM  

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