
No one expects a woman with soft hands, forgettable face, and virginity intact (so I claimed) to turn feral, but some skills one picks up with no experience – stroking egos, swallowing lies – till one day, I cheated a man I cared for out of $600 and his grandfather’s watch, all before breakfast. A man who has lost faith in his future is like a pair of empty glasses hanging on a branch in the rain with no face, so I looked away for good. Only some days, regrets climb out of the coffin I buried them into, Reverberating in my skull like a migraine.
***
Written for The Sunday Muse, Twiglets, Shay’s Word Garden Word List, and Poets and Storytellers United Friday Writings
Wow!
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Thanks!
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Super. Turning feral is a fantastic thought. Wonderful imagery you have woven in your verses. That looks like one of my classes that disappeared in a wormhole some years ago.
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Thanks! It’s not such a unique or uncommon story, but I try to tell it in a memorable way with creative imagery and language.
Boy that must have been some class!
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My stupid typo. I meant glasses.
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Oh that makes so much more sense! I was wondering what on earth you were teaching in your class.
I can’t take credit for the photo, only for the poetic description.
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The found you found looks like one of the glasses I lost. I have had three different pair of glasses fall off my face over the past 15 years or so while working on the property. Each time I saw where the glasses fell, but never found them. Really bizarre and expensive.
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I can’t really take credit for finding this photo. It was the photo for The Sunday Muse prompt. That does sound strange and expensive. I’m now picturing some coyote running off with your glasses because he got offended by your song about coyotes.
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Only if it felt it was excluded from the coyotes yipping. A lot of things disappear on the property. There’s a lot of paranormal activity on our property. I’ve never seen a coyote on our property or evidence of coyotes on our property. But they are on the ditch banks and other properties that border our property. A medium once told us there is a spirit of a large black dog that guards our property. We had a black Great Dane we rescued many years ago. She is buried on the property. The medium had no way of knowing about that dog. If she’s right, that would account for no coyotes on the property. There were a couple of dogs on the property a few weeks ago. They were frightened and frantically trying to find a way out at the eastern end of our property, which is the opposite end of the property where they came in. I finally had to open the gate to the ditch and let them out. They were acting like they were blocked from going back out on the road they came in on.
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Fascinating. As if things weren’t interesting enough with all the living animals on your property, you also have paranormal animal spirits hanging around. Your Great Dane must have been really special.
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She was found on the side of the road by a friend. She had been abused, dumped along the road, probably left for dead. She was almost dead when we got her. We nursed her back to health. She lived for 10 years with us, which is a long life for any Great Dane. She was a really sweet dog.
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Good stuff. Wow writin.
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😍 Thank you Yassy
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You are welcome, JYP 🤗
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“out of the coffin”….seeking a road to redemption …
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Out of the coffin and haunting the narrator. Regret has a way of not staying properly buried after the funeral
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What doesn’t kill you or cure you sometimes returns to bite you on the rear. Or so I read. Love the way you’ve mixed reflection, regret and reality here.
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“What doesn’t kill you or cure you sometimes returns to bite you in the rear” – this needs to go on a poster or a mug. It’s not motivational or “feel good”, but there’s an underappreciated truth here. Thank you ☺️
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This is hands down my favorite poem of yours that I’ve read.
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🥰
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Regrets are resilient aren’t they? This is a powerful poem my friend!
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Yeah, those regrets have a way of not staying properly buried and coming back to haunt you, don’t they! Thank you for the prompt inspiration!
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Wow, this prompt took you into deep water. Well done.
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It was an interesting and at times uncomfortable write. But I was sufficiently into the piece that I brought my personal laptop to work so I could finish and post it. Thank you
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I really think you aced it here, my friend. From untainted to predatory in two stanzas, that’s enough to give a reader a strangely pleasant sort of whiplash. After all, it’s often the unexpected that makes a poem engaging. And then the regret appearing almost involuntarily like a headache. Maybe not entirely feral after all, like the cat that accepts the prepared bed in the garage on a cold night. As for Mr. Sad Sack, any self-respecting vulpine partner would swipe his shit, too. 😛
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Strangely pleasant sort of whiplash is my poetry goal! Thank you, and thank you for the prompt inspiration!
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Wonderfully powerful and unexpected poem. 👍👍👍
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Thanks!
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I’m not normally into poetry! But I like that!! Wow!! ❤ Great job!
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Thanks! That’s high praise if I can make a non-poetry-fan like a poem!
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For sure!! 😮 ❤
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Fortunately you can’t turn away from that kind of thing forever. Regrets always keep the coffin lid unlocked
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Especially if said regrets are still alive when you try to bury them
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WOWZA! They don’t come much better than this. Two challenges, may as well have been hundreds, you would have aced it.
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Thank you! I combined the prompts because, believe it or not, I hadn’t wanted my blog to feature too much poetry.
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Hmmm, a salutary lesson about the need to break (very) bad habits.
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Yup, true. Especially because if you don’t, it’s hard to properly kill and bury your regrets so they stop haunting you. Thanks!
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Wow. Great poem. I especially like the last stanza.
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Thank you! That last stanza is just so true, re: the nature of regrets.
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You nailed two prompts with one outstanding poem!
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Thanks! I like to combine prompts because I didn’t want to have too much poetry on my “not intended to be a poetry blog” blog, and I was fortunate that these prompts played nicely together.
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Fabulous poem! Very raw and kind of brutal in its honesty and pain.
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Thanks! The experience of writing this poem was both easier and harder than I expected it would be.
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You’re really good at combining the concepts suggested by the various prompts and spinning a coherent piece out of those threads! No one expects nice girls like us to be…. bad.
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I don’t mean you’re “bad” lol.
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Hah, I know. No offense taken. We’re all pretty complicated anyway.
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I like writing one poem for multiple prompts mainly because I did not want to turn this blog into purely a poetry blog, and I don’t want to post too much poetry! But it worked out well that these prompts played nicely with each other.
But yeah, I think people make a lot of assumptions based on one aspect of a person’s identity and people are way more complicated than that.
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That is so good. I would have to quote the whole thing. Kudos.
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Thanks! That means a lot coming from you, as I find your poetry so impressive.
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You are welcome! I quite like your writing as well!
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😊
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Wow! ‘Feral’ & ‘regret’ make it so true to life.
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Thanks! Feral is a great adjective. I got that one from the Word Garden List prompt
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Interesting response to the photo prompt. You explored regret well, in such a short poem.
Thanks for dropping by to read mine
much love…
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Thank you. It was an interesting experience writing this one, as it was not comfortable to remember these particular regrets. But at the same time, I was so into this poem that I took my personal laptop to work in order to finish it while I still had it fresh in my mind!
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Some carry their regrets to the grave. Things they should do, stuff they shouldn’t.
excellent poem, with great imagery. 🙂
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The question is whether those regrets really stay buried. Thank you!
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Love the grit in this.
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Thank you!
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Welcome
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yep, regrets don’t like coffins, regrets are mostly chained to our ankles and never stay where we put them, very well said jyp.
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“chained to our ankles” – yes, I think this is an apt description of regrets. You can try to run away from them, and they’ll just run along with you like a jogging buddy. Well said.
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wow! powerful endingto a strong poem: I like the startling bur apt image of the pair of empty glasses —
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Thanks! I can’t take credit for the actual photo – that came from The Sunday Muse prompt. But it did provide wonderful inspiration for my poem!
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So I am loving the sharpness of the line breaks that seem to go so well with the wiliness of the speaker. The matter-of-fact ruthlessness makes the confession at the end hit that much harder.
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Thanks! I was going for sharp line breaks and a contrast between the tone of the guilt/regret confession and the rest of the poem, so I’m really happy to hear that this resonated. Thank you for reading and sharing.
By the way, I love your name! “Trueseeker” is an amazing last name. I don’t care whether it’s your legal name or one you just chose for yourself – I just really like it!
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#1, the clarity of what’s going on here is stunning. #2, the honesty and the regret are painfully palpable, like touching an open wound. Such good writing and hugs to you if it’s autobiographical.
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Thank you! So glad this came through.
I’m a fan of Peter Murphy’s Challenges for the Delusional Writing Prompts. In those prompts, there’s always a directive to “Tell a secret, tell a lie and never tell anyone which is which.” So this poem contains both secrets and lies. The regret is true though. Thank you.
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lol! You’re welcome.
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Sounds like a crime some CSI folks need to solve? Full of intrigue.
I watched a Father Brown episode where the Father and Daughter were achomplished thieves – though I believe they never harmed a living person. Sometimes the thieft is enough to wither a soul…
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Interesting. I love reading mystery novels, though I have never succeeded in writing mystery fiction. (Or fiction in general). I quite like the idea of having written a mystery poem….
Theft can be enough to wither a soul.
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Like curses… words that can be hurtful. One book (I think it was a book) a neighbor paid to have a curse put on another person. The person who delivered the ‘curse’ just visited the home and basically told the person that anything they left out could be saved and used against her in perhaps some kind of spell. But that’s all the person did. The person who was ‘cursed’ got so afraid that they ended up never leaving their home, never throwing anything away and basically in a year died of fear! The withered soul.
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Interesting. An example of fear itself being worse than the actual thing. But of course, humans do not behave rationally in general, and certainly not in the face of perceived fear.
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[…] and you’ll feel the bitter cold wind, the not-yet-spring awakening of a life turned upside-down reverberating in your skull like a migraine – so cold but you can’t even shiver cause you’ll fucking lose it. (The details don’t matter; […]
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