TheRealSharon's Blog











{June 27, 2013}   Old to me may be new to you

Sometimes something old to one person may be new to another.  I decided to re-post some of my old poetry in one post for those of you have may have never seen it before OR if you have, you can enjoy again hopefully! 🙂

Speechless

I can’t seem to get the words out

Of my fingers and onto the page

They’re stuck inside, confined

To a dungeon I didn’t create.

It’s musty and dirty,

my thoughts become water logged

drowning in an ocean

of sweat and tears.

I reach down deep into the puddles

saving what I can

here, there and everywhere,

but the final stanza seems beyond my grasp.

On one side’s my past

All soggy and fading

On the other side’s my future

Dry but yet unreadable

As I grab the pieces of my present

To try to make it come out right,

I see the future pages

filling in, but just out of my sight.

The pages I pick up slip one,

then two, three and four out of my hand

Into the past pages

Sinking lower and lower.

It’s then I realize it’s pointless to bother

It’s either fading or hasn’t been written

The in between slides quickly

Into the former.

Where do I find my words then

While they’re slipping away?

I guess I must write them as they happen

before they’re taken away.

(Very rough written last minute poem first posted on THIS same day 2 years ago. )

A HIGH SCHOOL OUTSIDER (Posted Feb. 13, 2010)

So this is high school, what all the kids talk about,

This is where they say I’ll have the best moments of my life,

Apparently, my future will be tragic,

Cause all high school has brought me is sorrow and strife.

Halfway through the year, I make one good friend,

Thank God for her or I’d be lost,

I dread the days when we have different lunches,

I’d rather not eat at all than sit all alone in that hall,

Full of the cliques always laughing and staring,

My stomach feels all jumbled up and tossed.

I wonder what they would feel like if they knew what it was like to be me,

Made fun of, laughed at, threatened day by day,

It’s not that it’s all in secret, it’s in front of all their eyes,

I guess they just don’t care or are afraid to speak up,

What they don’t understand is they’re not that different from me.

I listen to the same music, like the same shows,

Obsess over the same guys as they do,

I wish to dress like all the stars, but clothes are expensive and hard to find in my size,

I have beautiful curly hair but it’s so kinky, it’s an afro,

And these glasses don’t do much for my reputation in your eyes.

Most of all aren’t so bad, you just completely ignore me,

At least you’re not like some of the guys, they just seem out to destroy me.

They do it in the worst way you could possibly hurt me,

They sling words like massive stones, humiliate and revert me

Back into something I’ve tried so long not to be,

That little girl afraid to be herself, she longs to break free,

But I sit in this shell, not quite sure how I got here,

Wasn’t I hatched long ago?, How did the pieces get put back here?!

Instead of exiting the shell, I feel it closing in on me,

Every time I poke my head out, there’s always YOU looking down at me,

Telling me I’m not good enough, I’m ugly, I’m fat,

No one will ever love you, Stay just where you’re at,

I don’t care what’s inside you, longing to get out,

Your outer exterior is all I care about.

So I stayed home, crying, all alone in my room,

I refused to go to that prison that you call school,

What do I learn there, anyway? Except how to hate,

There’s only so much a poor girl can take.

LOVE AND HEARTBREAK (Written in 2007, posted here in Jan. 2011)

Love and Heartbreak

Exhilaration, Complication,
Tragedy in exile,
Humiliation,
Obessed creation,
Followed by a smile.

A panicked feeling,
Temptation reeling,
Harpoon hooked on a jagged heart.
Corrosive heartbreak,
Battle of souls to take,
A powerful mixture of minds.

A staircase collision,
Broken heart in remission,
Footsteps trodding over
that trample and mold,
Rebuilding the temple
of a soul’s inner being,
Preparing the way for
silver to change to gold.

(This is by far one of the best poems I think I have ever written, but I’m glad the feelings I had writing this are no longer the same)

Last, but not least….an attempt on May 15, 2011 to come up with a poem spontaneously in 30 minutes….and it feels like a rap. LOL

30 minutes-by Sharon Hughes

I’ve got 30 minutes to write this rhyme,

If I go over then I’m out of time,

Doesn’t seem enough to express my thoughts,

But then again maybe it’s too much time.

It takes one minute to show an expression on your face,

Only takes one minute for it to be erased.

Which emotion will I show to the world today?

If I show the wrong one, will you walk away?

Cause I seem to be too absorbed with the way you see me,

I seem to care too much about the way I’m viewed,

Perception’s different for each person,

I can never be 100% of the same day to day

One person can see my face and think I’m mad

While the other one sees happiness and I may be sad,

It’s hard to convey my feelings just by my outer appearance,

You can’t judge a book by its cover, there’s no adherence

To what rules must I follow? what side should I cling to?

I can’t just always be what you want me to

BE.

What I am is not a feeling, not a positive or negative

reaction or expression, not a facial movement

that I can put on or take off however it suits you,

I can’t fit a mold that makes everyone happy,

I can’t be here and there and everywhere

What you want from me is an impossibility.

Now I’m down to half the time I started with,

Still haven’t begun to tell you fully

How I’m tired of  always trying to fit in

In this world I live in,

It seems to be something I can never get away from.

I want to go back and tell the younger me

That it’s OK to cry,

There’s nothing wrong with being you,

You’re perfect just the way you are,

Don’t waste your time trying to be

Something that you’re not,

The popular crowd’s not worth your time,

You’ll never fit in there cause you’re meant for something more.

You’re MORE than what they can conceive of,

There’s just too dumb to truly see 

The one they see’s not really me,

The girl inside’s everything they’ll never 

BE.

I’ve got 5 minutes left to tell my tale,

Running out of time but I’m still here,

I’ve got to show the world I’ve got what it takes,

I’m not like you, I can’t be fake,

So look at my face and take whatever you choose,

Happy, sad, mad or angry, use me for your muse,

Or however you will, it’s all fine by me,

Cause in the end the only one I need to please is me.

30 minutes I started with,

Now it’s over and done,

But my journey has just begun.

All I know is that what everyone else thinks

Is not what I must focus on

All I want for me is what I’m meant to

BE.

Advertisements


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

et cetera
Everything Mommyhood

Mom Life, Reviews, Giveaways, Recipes, DIY, and more

Worldwide EndoMarch

Forward we go to end the silence for Endometriosis!

Worth the trouble

“He couldn’t see why people made such a fuss about people eating their silly old fruit anyway, but life would be a lot less fun if they didn’t. And there was never an apple, in Adam’s opinion, that wasn’t worth the trouble you got into for eating it.” ~from Good Omens

Problems With Infinity

Confessions of a Delusional Maniac

karenwriteshere

Hope isn't an emotion, but a daily choice. Keep choosing the path of hope.

Thought Catalog

Thought Catalog is a digital youth culture magazine dedicated to your stories and ideas.

The Ideal Me by 24

Smile! You’re at the best WordPress.com site ever

Women Who Think Too Much by Jeanne Marie

My book, Women Who Think Too Much, is available at smashwords.com

Becoming Cliche

My Journey to Becoming My Mother

My Trousers Rolled

"I grow old...I grow old...I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled..." -- T.S. Eliot, The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock

randomdescent

"writing is an adventure"

More Cabaret

Class, Sass, and a Lot of Ass

Book Lovers Buffet

Load Up - You Won't Gain a Pound!

re-Education

Ideas about English, Drama and ICT in the classroom, as well as some broader musings

readful things blog

colourful language, colourful opinions

101 Books

Reading my way through Time Magazine's 100 Greatest Novels since 1923 (plus Ulysses)

Insatiable Booksluts

Voracious readers tell you if that book is going to suck.

Body Rebooted

On the road to optimal health!

%d bloggers like this: