I’m being crushed in my own house
When suddenly they realise I’m not the child they wanted
When they realised I have failed academically
I’m suddenly a child who brought shame
They first start the argument
No one wants to hear my truth
I want to jump in a valley
And put this case to rest
You shine so bright, a beacon of hope,
A radiant beauty, my soul's eternal scope.
Supportive and loving, through all life's strife,
My partner, my friend, my forever wife.
No regrets in choosing you, my heart's desire,
Together we share, love's sacred fire.
Our finances, one, no secrets untold,
Transparency's bond, our love forever to hold.
In my absence, home remains warm and sweet,
Your care, a haven, where love retreats.
You excel in wife and motherly roles,
A virtuous woman, with a loving soul.
Delicious meals, crafted with loving care,
Your culinary skills, beyond compare.
From a good home, your values shine,
A treasure, my Jewel, forever mine.
Academically, your support shines bright,
Encouraging me, through day and night.
Romantic cuddles, a love so true,
Your bosom, my comfort zone, forever anew.
I cherish you, now and forevermore,
My Jewel, my joy, my heart's greatest score.
You make life richer, with every passing day,
Forever grateful, in every loving way.
I am compelled to write it
when it flows like white water rapids.
Perhaps some initiate when they see it.
Some are energized when they smell it.
Others are inspired best when they hear its sound.
Some experience explosions when they taste it.
No doubt, at various times and seasons, the
entire sensory system will come into play.
But for me? I function best when I feel it.
It embraces my entire being, not letting me go.
Words appear, and if I do not savor and capture
them, they vanish like vapors in the wind.
I never sought after poetry. Poetry found me.
I never pursued poetry academically, but Poetry
arrested, studied, and found me useful as a conduit when it first
captured me at the bedside of a dying one.
061524PS
An American actor, Kevin Costner.
known for Divorce battle with Christine Baumgartner, his x partner.
Academically inclined but played sports and poetry he pens.
At a young age, loss confidence, having to make new friends.
It is certain, my Lord,
That
Your ways are:
Good,
Just,
Beautiful, and
Holy,
Alas,
We, humans, fail, Your
Divine ways to understand
For
We, constantly, live in fear, on
Afflictions' tormenting land!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
29 January 2023
* My upcoming book, " Before The Sun Goes Down " is, finally, in the hands of my publisher. Below is my dedication. You will notice that you, my friends, are not forgotten.
DEDICATION
I dedicate this book to the Divine Light within that inspires and guides all of us on the path of love, righteousness, and spirituality throughout life and beyond.
However, it is only appropriate to remember all those beautiful people that have helped me grow: Physically, emotionally, mentally, morally, and academically, so as to be able to compile this humble poetic work and offer it as a thanksgiving to our Lord.
Also, I should not forget to thank my fellow poets at PoetrySoup, who have been reading and commenting on my poems for over a decade now. God bless them.
The people around here
Say that because I'm different
In the sense I'm academically inclined
And seem so calm and smart,
That I hold potential to go further in life
Than others, such as my peers.
But really: I can't help but feel like
I am going nowhere,
The present has always been
Just the fleeting time of me thinking,
"The present to me is dull,
The past to me is self-pity,
The future to me is something
I envision constantly.
But now even I hold doubt in myself
And content in not pursuing living
As society knows it."
I like feeling somewhat
Above everyone else,
Yet I know what it feels like to come down
To earth with "my fellow man".
It's sobering, relieving to know
That no matter the amount
Of certainty or motivation:
People are good and bad in their own ways.
Little to no one really has the right
To judge stereotypically:
You're at home, a bit chubby, glasses, etc.
I feel settled now, thinking I got all my life
To save up money and finally
Going around the world
Or perhaps a few countries.
Whatever happened changed the tune
The entire room stared at this so-called goon.
He was new to their class in every way.
So far he had ruined the teacher’s whole day.
Was he the felon classmates thought he was?
As did the sixth-grade teachers, Mr. Pea and Ms. Fuzz.
Just meeting him, I could give him a fresh start.
I am not one to tear a new student apart.
Kids were glaring; he had made many mad.
Trying to prove he was big and bad.
I met him on a different level, he was a delight.
He calmed down quite a bit and did not fight.
Some students just need some one-on-one.
For them school is in no way interesting or fun.
How did he get along with you? The teacher asked me.
Great, but I did not ask him to do anything academically.
Punitively regressive are 'Progressives'
Defunding charter schools
Crippling the academically aggressive
Denying school choice
to gifted students
from poor families ~
without a voice
The true mother
To, please, be true to challenges,
Never omitting to bother
About what The War arranges…
To keep challenging the problem
Of her challenged son
Ever wearing the emblem
Of Ever Victorious Sun…
To continue battling with the sickness
Of her embattled daughter
Forthwith addressing the silliness
Of its delayed slaughter…
A real mother remains real,
When this utterly stupid seems:
The mummy by example for the ideals
Amidst vicious attacks and screams:
Never giving up on her child,
Already beginning to act wild:
The sadly physically deprived,
The have-not-academically –arrived…
Mothers True
To keep being True.
God bless ya, #Dyslexia,
my pseudo super power,
academically sucky,
but creatively lucky,
thou maketh some peeps tower.
"How sweet to the heart are the scenes of my childhood"
Samuel Woodworth, 1785-1842
I'd help milk the goat and feed our two pigs
and loved being outside in the warm sun
picking potatoes whilst my father digs
We'd go to the coast it was so much fun,
driving for miles in dad's Volkswagen car,
dad would buy big ice creams for everyone!
My primary school was not very far
I'd walk there with my mother every day
academically I wasn't a star!
I was a tomboy, I guess I should say
and never played with dolls when I was small
I dreamed of throwing sis's Barbie away!
Just a few memories, I can recall
I have many more... but won't share them all
Terza Rima Form Poetry Contest
10 syllables per line checked with how many syllables
Sponsored by Constance La France
20/11/20
Inspired by Kath Walker, Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Emily Dickinson
Ella you captured me
with all of yours I read
Curled up with all your poems
How they touched my heart and head
Though some they may not agree
Hence they were left behind
Your character was flawless;
With all that you had signed.
Emily I do begin
To search my very soul
Deeper now with all expressed
You always showed control.
When thoughts of you
And all I feel
Clouds roll away in space
Though life and death and how so strange
You always kept your grace.
Aunty Kath you mesmerised-
Many who did read
Educated, solidated
Poetry of seed.
Igniting stories into print
Leadership prevailed
So so strong and all along
With all the words detailed.
Who would I be if weren’t for three
And many more I read?
Compelling such emotions
Academically ahead.
Uplifted me with poetry
To ponder such well versed
To read between the lines of three
Great women, how they nursed…
Life, Love, Humanity
All which we’ve all been blessed
Mothers, Aunties, Sisters and
Immortal Poetess.
From whence springs
eighteenth century wellsprings
of democratizing
healthy cooperative identity?
In that urgent time's revolutionary uniting States
too soon to celebrate
Independence Day
again
and patriarchally
again
and military-industrially
again
and corporately sponsored LeftBrain academically
again
Caught,
and soon virally aflame
in France
and other
older
conserving royalist
loyal feminized serf serves master estates,
Becoming now a marriage
of independent Fraternity
and interdependent Lady Liberty
repatriotic rematriation
of strong and flowing governance
of self and other,
ego and eco,
yang craves yin
for liberally, lavish health
and conserving disciplined safety
becoming more interdependent democracy
of sensory spiritual
and sensual natural
EarthTribes,
Strong of communal therapeutic re-identifying,
not defying,
Flow of sensory free associations
For Loyal patriots
reincarnating
CoPassionate eco-matriarchs.
Born a year after her crowning, named after the Queen
My sister had no luck, her life short and mean
Academically and behaviorally in trouble at school
A royal rebel was 'Liz;' she broke all the rules
Couldn't hold a job for more than a year
Her 'friends' all smoked dope and drank beer
Yet a good heart had she; give you the shirt off her back
Acted surprised, not upset, if it didn't come back
Contracted HIV from a tainted blood transfusion
Lived seven more years in pain and disillusion
A tragic story, cut down at 36 by AIDS disease
My sister Elizabeth, namesake of royalty
~ This year marks 29 years since Elizabeth's passing ~
He made me look at my insecurities with braveness
His hands of abuse could not scare me
So, I kept quiet and only gave him an eye and said a short prayer while his voice went over the roof top as he shouted to impress those who were watching
Little did he know that I survived
I survived terror, trauma and a worst deal of pain
At that very minute nothing could hurt me more than he could
My fear became my strong point!
My laughter at heart was giggles having a deep eye interaction conversation with a monster
His hormones were not at a steadiness but in rage
His voice was more certain than the loud music I used to be played and all my myth became my truth
At that moment he became a published book of bad errors and mistakes with a poor grammar
This was so rare to me that his desirable rage was filled with hurt and that it could be academically awarded a medal for a movie displaying right in front of my eyes
A rare me was more certain than desirable to see nakedly how the devil looks in soul
He was terror, trauma and a great deal of pain but I could not break but survive
Poet
Masego Nkuna
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