Lonely's Daughter

No one will look at her, no one can see into her eyes
She just keeps on walking, and no one notices as she walks by
Some think she is someone, but no one asks to hear her reply
She is Lonely’s Daughter, and no one hears her cries
Someone will use her, but find she is of no use
Another will mislead her, and use her own gifts as the excuse
Someone will leave her, and she will realize what she already knows
That she can keep on walking, though her path will lead any way the wind blows
Because she is Lonely’s Daughter, and her womb has been just the same
Solitude’s only child, but for this one, there is no name…

Queen Poetess B
Copyright © 2010 BLF

Losing Home

This was meant to be written--I found the pen--now its past-driven…


We’re losing home, where we used to stay
Can't walk into the room
Where mom and daddy used to lay
No more chances to touch that rose bush thats damned to stay
Even though Momma Rose tried to kill that bush
In the past, now decades away
(it still don’t sit up straight to this day)
No more memories triggered when I walk into the kitchen
I remember how our new addition made me feel like we should’ve been on How I’m Livin’
No more stomping and running up and down bare stairs
No more can I see the pink room where I said my prayers
(and kissed a boy there…)
But we’ll still have our memories—
Me and my sis would stay up late
Telling stories, eating candy and recording our original songs on cassette tape
Doing all sorts of things that would make our Mom mad
Like listening to that Richard Pryor record our dad had that made us laugh
No more hanging in the basement where the ceiling’s too low
Something our cousin would always forget—he’d hit his head
Sending me and sis into a row
No more harmonicas in the China cabinet
No more rubber bullets lodged in nasal cavities
No more hiding behind the fridge from Momma’s belt
No more hands of Five-hundred being dealt
No more trips to Indian Acres and flea market trips
No early morning stirring as she prepares for dialysis
No more dust piles left swept neatly in the hall
No more hugs from the one who reassured me despite it all
Were losing only the physical evidence of this home
But losing her and it so closely reaffirms that she really is gone…

Queen Poetess B Copyright © 2009 All rights reserved.

Accidental Loneliness

His loneliness is accidental
No one present to hear his words
Spoken inside his mind several times over
But continuously he is never heard
He goes about daily, always in a daze
But he really thinks things he dare not speak
He censors himself always
Watching everyone pass him off as weak
He never picks just the 'right' comment
Though there are plenty of things to say inside his head
Every time he opens his mouth
He quickly decides to keep them to himself instead
Page after page of prose he has composed
Never daring to share
Even though his friendliness shows
No one he has found ever-wanting there
It is by his choice and his alone
Not to share what's inside his Mental
Always dismissing the idea that someone might listen
Which is why his loneliness is accidental.

BLF 4/10/2009 ©