tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-128618542011-04-21T21:25:17.952-07:00Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00936093410753411736noreply@blogger.comBlogger41100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12861854.post-1143483258702702612006-03-27T10:05:00.000-08:002006-03-27T10:14:18.716-08:00Here is a poem I wrote about middle child syndrome, which I assure you is real...<br /><br />So I am standing<br />Pearched a top the diving board<br />Toes on the nose, 6 years old<br />Black suit, white dots, pink frill, waterwings<br />I am a virgin to the board and really scared<br />I close my eyes and I am soaring<br />Sailing, flying<br />Somewhat picturesque, like a pinwheel...<br /><br />Unlike most I was blest with three brothers<br />and two equally talented tormentors called sisters<br />Jake the snake<br />2 years older non the wiser<br />Had chucked me off of the diving board to my almost certain doom<br />I will never forget the day he taught me to swim...<br /><br />Junior high was more crippling,<br />Eating my way through twinkies and books<br />Limited friends and limited looks,<br />I was a chunk<br />My family never gave up on me though,<br />Wedgies, teasings, swirlies,<br />All signs of love<br />As if they knew the scars wouldn't last,<br />The fat kid days would somehow pass,<br />I have bear crawled my way through middle child syndrome<br />Banking on wit to quicken my pace<br />Barely deemed of human race,<br />So let me tell all you only, older, younger, syblings<br />I have been ignored at meals, blamed for spills and forgotten on birthdays<br /><br />Survival of the fittest sucks when you are anything but<br /><br />Yet, it took me so long to realize,<br />I attribute my strengths to my family character flaws<br />I have compassion for the underdogs<br />An eye for the over looked<br />and material for a plethora of poems<br /><br />So here is a sonnet,<br />a theme<br />a tribute<br />To my family and yours<br />May the teasing be relentless,<br />The love never failing,<br />And for blood to always be thicker than pool water.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12861854-114348325870270261?l=drie8690.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00936093410753411736noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12861854.post-1141059652177085952006-02-27T08:56:00.000-08:002006-02-27T09:00:52.196-08:00So, here I am, a year later and needless to say things got better...wierd. This was mostly due to Ani Difranco and a few relationships, but fear not, I am still pumping out some angsty and slightly bitter poetry. I recently participated in a poetry slam which was pretty much amazing. I will post a few of my other poems, including the one I will write for my roommates wedding. Her fiance is more nervous to hear what I have to say than the actual marriage. Mission accomplished.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12861854-114105965217708595?l=drie8690.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00936093410753411736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12861854.post-1115958157142452142005-05-12T21:21:00.000-07:002005-05-12T21:22:37.146-07:00Knitting never made me cry<br />A poem of angst<br />By Libby<br /><br />I am a legacy of strong women, dropped stitches and abandoned projects.<br />E.Z. said, “Knit on with confidence and hope, through all crises.”<br />Well. I hit a crisis,<br />A big fat boy crisis<br /><br />So this is my “break up and get on” sweater<br />My “I don’t need a man to buy me yarn” sweater<br />My “No one takes it off but me” sweater<br /><br />Purls of wisdom slipped intravenously from my fingers to my soul<br />Then from my soul to my needles I regain my composure<br />Stitch after stitch I come closer and closer<br />TO FREEDOM<br />And when it is done I will say<br />Now is the day, now is the time, I am free, I am free<br /><br />So this is my “break up and get on” sweater<br />My “I don’t need a man to buy me yarn” sweater<br />My “No one takes it off but me” sweater<br /><br />It is hard to control my stitches when someone is controlling my arm<br />Where to go, what to do,<br />Or not to do<br />I got tired of the Indian rug burn, so I had a choice<br />Break free or go limp<br />I broke the ties found your lies<br />No longer am I uncomfortable in my own skin<br />Clothed in a sweater of independence and self assurance<br /><br />So this is my “break up and get on” sweater<br />My “I don’t need a man to buy me yarn” sweater<br />My “No one takes it off but me” sweater<br /><br />You selfish fickle farse boy<br />With you I dropped stitches in my intricate web of support<br />Mis counting rows and getting lost in the simple college pattern<br />I was desperate for you<br />But now I am desperate for a sweater to find my own heat<br />Knitting <strong>you</strong> socks didn’t warm <strong>my</strong> cold feet<br />So, please, let me be discrete<br />Knitting never made me cry<br /><br />So this is my “break up and get on” sweater<br />My “I don’t need a man to buy me yarn” sweater<br />My “No one takes it off but me” sweater<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12861854-111595815714245214?l=drie8690.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00936093410753411736noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12861854.post-1115956485178821742005-05-12T20:50:00.000-07:002005-05-12T20:54:45.183-07:00I have never been treated so poorly, mocked so openly, sworn at as much, or watched as much halo as I did when I was dating a lame-o. Wasn't worth it, I dated him for 2 months and all I got was this lousy t-shirt...oh wait, he asked for that back too....<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12861854-111595648517882174?l=drie8690.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00936093410753411736noreply@blogger.com0