Friday, April 09, 2010

Today's prompt was to write a self portrait in poem. I did two.


I am as I have akways been,
one who jumps at sudden noises,
colors in crayon and word,
runs out to catch the moonrise,
likes fresh air, lemons, ginger
champions underdogs, stays
quiet until challenged, fierce
under threat, tenacious,
takes refuge in dawn, dusk,
mist, lives between worlds,
loves hard, grieves quietly,
picks up pebbles, feathers,
hopes as much as I fear.


People look at my long faded hair,
my shawls and bare legs and they
label me aging hippie. Wrong.

Aging, technically, yes, of course.
Every year is a year I've lived.
Sometimes my knees ache. .
I know I am past midpoint,
focus on legacy not future.
but aging isn't an important
part of my self image.

Not a hippie ever, good girl who
saved sex for husbands and never
dropped acid, studied hard, cleaned
up after demonstrations, was
embarrassed by drunks and pot heads.

But I am myself, a woman who likes shawls,
whose husband finds long hair sexy, who
has left leaning politics. Myself, still emerging.


Mary said...

I do think I realied you jumped at sudden noises; and all the rest in poem #1 definitely rings true to what I know about you.

In regard to poem #2, I don't ever recollect thinking of you as an aging hippie. Though I can understand how some people might. So much is judged by people's conceptions of stereotypical appearance. As for me, I just thought of you as having your own unique style. I think I have my own unique style too. Actually I think many of the people we know in common do. It's kind of fun....

Nice writing.

Diane T said...

You know and share yourself so well, Victoria. Your poems such as these are wonderful sharings of self.