Tag Archives: Sad

Inktober – Happy Dog (6) and Echo (7)

Here’s a twofer.

Day 6:  This is a dog, in case you couldn’t tell. Dogs are hilarious. I’m not sure if these fancy ink pens always look like cheap markers when used, or if it’s just my special artistic touch that’s transformed them.

 

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Day 7: I was reading about Echo and Narcissus, looking at depictions of them, and got a little annoyed. So I wrote this.

 

Everyone remembers Narcissus
But what of Echo?
She didn’t matter to herself
So she doesn’t matter to others
Always a footnote in someone’s painting
A wan satellite
A visual element
Used to balance out and set off
Narcissus’s self-importance.

 

And I drew Echo (alone so Narcissus with his lesser problems and greater charisma can’t steal the limelight), in the process of dwindling away into the cliffs. Soon only her voice will be left.

 

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That damn bluebird

 

It’s easy to forget

But happiness

She always comes back

 

That emptyheaded little bluebird

Flutters off

God knows why

She has everything she needs here

I do all I can to make her comfortable

But sometimes she just

Has

To leave

And I wait for her

Looking anxiously out the window

Refilling her water bowl

Putting out her favorite treats

Trying in vain to lure her back

And hope

That she didn’t leave for good this time.

I need her

To fill my day with songs again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

Another one for Mom

 

Mom

Was it four years ago

Only four

When you were in the kitchen, insisting on helping with the dishes

You took so long

Running the disposal dry for minutes at a time.

 

Was it three years ago

Only three

In the cold, you in your green trenchcoat and walker

And I took you to a Chinese restaurant

For your latest obsession, orange chicken.

You hugged the waitress and told her you loved her.

 

Was it two years ago

Only two

When I was feeding you ice cream in bed

Sugar free, but we didn’t tell you that.

You ate it all, every time if I let you.

You told us you weren’t sick.

 

Was it one year ago

Only one?

We’d asked you if you were done with meds

And you nodded an emphatic yes

One of the last things you said.

We held your blue fingers

And watched you fade.

 

I miss you

I miss you

I hated to see you suffer

I was glad you got to go

But I still miss you.

Days go by

I’ve made new friends

I’ve found new joys

I am blossoming in new ways

You would be proud

You were always proud.

I haven’t missed out on anything

But I miss so much.

 

You were always easy to talk to

You knew things

I bet everything I have uncovered for myself

You already knew.

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

A Little Sad

When I promised honesty, that wasn’t so much for you as it was a promise to myself. Every single thing I post is a little bit scary to put out there, whether it’s silly, or straightforward, or sad. I’m not sure why I’m being so strict with myself. Well, yes I do. I know that it’s good for me, and I know that writing is missing something when it is written by a person who won’t let you see past their walls. Posting about being sad is the hardest though. Vulnerability… Just the word makes me cringe. It’s so gooey sounding.

 

It’s easy to write a poem

When you feel something.

When passion rises

Words are cheap.

But when you’re sad

Every word has to battle its way to the surface.

I have nothing to be sad about.

All my needs are met.

I have people whom I love

And who love me.

I have access to all the chocolate I can eat

And the freedom and funds to do so.

I even have the Tao; something I can believe in.

I let go of resentment and guilt.

Yet still

Still there are days

When I am sad

And I can’t

Pin down

Why.

My sister doesn’t get sad.

She told me so.

There are people like that in the world.

There are also people in shitty situations

Who have so much trouble they don’t have time to be sad.

Maybe I’m not being true to myself somehow

Maybe I’ve inherited something

Maybe the happy people are the anomalies

And to be sad is merely human.

Maybe it’s in our nature to strive for more

No matter how much we have.

Maybe I’ll go to sleep

And tomorrow morning

Everything will be rosy again

As it so often is.

For me, the morning really does bring light.

 

It’s gotten better with age.

I’ve learned coping mechanisms

I’ve learned to express myself

I’ve learned to get exercise.

All these things make a difference.

But I guess there are some things

You can’t completely rub out.

Everything leaves scars.