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lane.rowe

She chomps, she chows, she claps and applauds

And when she is done

She finds that she was too loud

In fact, she was determined to draw attention

To herself

And when she tried she climbed upon a shelf

But then she cried because she fell

The way she delved into the couch cooshuns 

And hit her arm on the metallic pole weighing a ton

But it wasn't her fault

If anything she blamed it on her parents

Their hard ambitions to put her through college

To give her an education they never got

but sought to have.

So they saved their can

And put money in it

Acted as if

She fit

in English lit

But when she became

Mentally ill

And fell against the floor

She climbed again to the ceiling fan

And her parents felt

Disabled.

Disappointed

she was all they were

All they had was one daughter

 One pride 

One joy

Their little girl

Maybe they should have had a boy



But it was too late for that now

She was simple-minded.

As simple as a cow

 Her home was the feeling 

Of being close to the ceiling

But maybe its because

As of now

Her life was upsidedown 

And the ceiling felt like the ground,

A structure of madness

A path complete

Four corners 

No curves

 Just a soft place for two feet 

To tread along

in the calmness of a pond

The imaginative textile beauties of lily pads

Except it was not that

 

The ceiling was clean

In a sharpened way

neat

 It was something that made her think time away

 All throughout the day

 But at night

was when she came alive

 Enjoying her food

And constructing a prize

 She put effort in

The passion she drew

 Curves of letters

And wrote so few

 Some may say 

A legend she grew

But it was only the people

Her eyes knew

The imaginary ones

 That walked upon

The ceiling so swift; ly 

right along

The side of her 

A beautiful spur

Of hope on tongues

But there was nothing vaguely unique about the space 

In reality, it was just a place

That she felt safe 

So to her, she appreciated rhythm and melody

She loved to think about these things

And imagine a sound so serene 

Like soft sheets of silk

And the tranquility of a child's dream 

That quickly turned to an ugly scene

A scene of sadness

And echoey screams

A scene of wrinkles, crinkles, and trees

But not the good trees

They were willow trees;

the kinds that would weep

A multitude of Ugly thoughts

And ideas so tedious and unclean

They ran at her fast surrounding and mean

How could she know she was schizophrenic at four

with all the Doctors at the door 

Drilling symptoms and diagnosing her 

with ocd. 

Now she repeats

The words in her head

 The sentences so short

 And the rhythms of dread

The beat in my head

I'm Interrupted as I lie in my bed

 Why is it that my mind can't stop

Watching that ceiling fan spin around top

When nothings actually moving

 Its a feeling in me 

Of quiet sound

Too quiet til it becomes increasingly loud

driving me crazy because only in silence 

The four corners of the ceiling derive a melody

As they meet in the middle and swoop to a beat 

 But now all the fan does is screech

It scratches the ceiling, the only clean space

Each time now scratching and screeching in a circular way

A clock-like scar that drives me crazy.  

  • Author: Lane Rowe (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: May 23rd, 2022 20:02
  • Comment from author about the poem: this poem is derived from a case of extreme boredom. it's just meaningful nonsense:) (but really some of these things may make so much sense to me and only me so if you don't relate that's ok)
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 24
  • Users favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek
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Comments +

Comments1

  • L. B. Mek

    'Her life was upside down
    And the ceiling felt like the ground,
    A structure of madness
    A path complete
    Four corners
    No curves
    Just a soft place for two feet
    To tread along
    in the calmness of a pond
    The imaginative textile beauties of lily pads
    Except it was not that

    The ceiling was clean
    In a sharpened way
    neat'..
    Brilliant!!!
    (there's a lot I would love to unravel
    and interpret in my reading of this exemplary work
    of feisty, self-expression
    but I fear I would only you impose upon
    what must feel to you
    like such a unique and intimate work)
    so instead, I'll just state
    categorically
    dear Poet, I think you're Brilliant!
    keep writing & stay strong
    I wish you peace!
    (and
    however unfortunate the results
    of their actions
    I clearly see, Why
    your parents, Chose
    to invest in You, as
    Your defiantly radiating, complex
    Personality, deserves nothing less!
    showcased, so emphatically
    in these words you share..)
    'stay Beautiful, stay You'

    • lane.rowe

      L. B. Mek, thank you for your comment, Your words are so inspirational to me, I wish you happiness in all you do as well 🙂



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