A hot shot writers prompt this weekend (one word cues a 5 minute writing sprint) got me writing the first poem I’ve concocted in nearly a year – yes ten tragic poetically void months.
So here it is, comments by other writers on the same prompt pending, and hopefully your poetic responses too. Let’s spark up this sleeping sohbet!
Humiliation
I cocked it up again
The words spilled out
Not the right time
Not the right place
Not the right thoughts
Flushed with shame
I tuck my exposed self
Back under my skin
Valerie Roney 
after a day of exposure
vulnerable to the glare of others
exhausted by the constant
changes of masks and costumes
trying to stay true
and not be pulled into
being someone else’s vision
I’m resting in my own skin
finding home
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PS everyone…
I’m dedicating this to my son.
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Elementary lunchrooms
I wrestle with the nourishment between my palms:
fried dried fish
boiled duck embryo
entrails, anything fermented
all foreign in taste as in name
that rolls off my tongue; syllables of old home.
But my new one only sees and smells
leaving alien biohazards to eat their sandwiches alone.
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.humiliation.too.
is letting go
as easy as
turning out your pockets
lint like life
spilling out
catching on a wind
that carries away
our misgiving, misshapen-ed, mistakes
so our skin is free from
blushing moments,
impromptu as our innuendos
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Humiliation
Playing chess with people’s emotions
you are good at what I am not
wish I could
match you like
our every thumb war I resist
letting you beat me
in the end enjoying the submission
of you insulting my efforts to improve
most tender
my ugly
head of rage to wash me clean
our tides leave me striped
bare – exposed
radiating only
where I most need to grow
Copyright Adrienne Adams January 26th 2014
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