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The Mother of All Pearls Part Three

Dearest Nan

This comment is the reason you are so special to me, why I can’t bare seeing you hurt so deeply and why I can’t turn my back on you and walk away when you have need of my friendship.

In all the years I have written about what happened to my family you are the only woman who ever expressed empathy and compassion by saying you were sorry for what had happened to us.

In spite of your own great pain – how deeply you have been hurt by others.

You have no idea just how much your words impressed me at the time.

It is the reason I chose to love you (in spite of my own vow to never love another woman again I made the last time a woman broke my heart) in any capacity you could accept and why I will never stop loving you as a friend.

Not only did you touch my heart and restore my ability to love again but you taught me how to love truly.

You gave me the opportunity to grow another step beyond the anger and vindictiveness fueled by emotional pain.

To do the opposite of what my deceitful heart was telling me to do – to stop myself from reacting by lashing out.

For the first time in my life I really had to think things through and act accordingly; in order to be the true friend you needed me to be as well as to be true to myself and my ideals.

Thank you so much for reaching out to me and touching my heart.

But especially for being yourself and the gift of your friendship.

The Mother of All Pearls (the piece of your heart) that resides safely within the Treasure Box of my heart.

Love Dabbie

Here is the link where Nan’s comment resides:

https://misterpoetsjournal.com/2017/12/10/three-good-reasons-to-say-no-to-feminism&/#8230

 One Final Note:

The day Nan left her comment on my blog was five days before one of my ribs popped out of its socket.

Requiring me to spend the following 5 to 6 weeks out of work – 3 of those weeks in extreme pain as I could not sneeze or cough without hurting.

That event and the pain with it turned out to be blessing and the best time of my life (the only exception being the birth of my son) because it was during that time that my friendship with Nan began.

She was with me through that painful time in my life.

A Tangle of Weeds

“One always runs the risk of weeping, if one lets himself be tamed….It is such a secret place – the land of tears” – The Little Prince, who continues to inspire me.

——–

If you knew just how many pieces of my heart lie scattered around here, you’d judge my character. I have given little bits to everyone I have been attracted to. I still do. They all have a piece of me, that they use at their will and I let them. I am not afraid of being judged. I am an incorrigible flirt. It all boils down to the void in me, that creeped up with the failure of my first love and now aggravated by the departure of someone I was deeply in love with, for the second time in my life.

I am a loner in real life, as against virtual screens. I have cut off…

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Wrath (Ira)

I love the concept of femininity always have and always will.

Yet I’d rather end my life by my own hand at the age of 60.

Just over a year away.

Then to spend my twilight years with a woman who is at war with me.

Megha's World

This sixth poem is a part of the anthology of poems based on the Seven deadly sins.Do read the previous ones too, if you haven’t yet.
Wrath(Ira) – uncontrollable feelings of anger and hate towards another person.

“For this alone on Death, I wreak
The wrath that garners in my heart:
He put our lives so far apart
We cannot hear each other speak.”
― Alfred Tennyson

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Burning and raging fire
the feeling of anger and the hatred
you are devouring everyone around you
raising hell with your inferno
those flames cannot be
doused by the wrath
you are carrying within
pushing yourself to the limit
pushing the self-destruct from within
trying all the threads of your patience
you are deaf to your inner voice
you are muted by words of hatred
screaming in a fit of rage
it stirs you and leaves you
with repentance
Wrath, the mortal sin
makes…

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Sloth( Acedia)

My wife insisted that she go to work even though I wanted her to take care of our home.

So we built a two earner lifestyle.

In 2007 she survived a brain aneurysm.

In 2008 she was laid off and she was devastated.

She lay on a couch for a year watching tv.

I insisted she go to school and she earned a diploma.

She then Found a job that didn’t work out.

Again she was devastated.

Back on the couch she went watching tv.

I insisted she find another job or apply for S.S. disibility.

She was denied.

After losing a third of our income guess who got stuck holding an empty bag?

That’s right me.

So I struggle to soar every single day with a dead weight tied to my legs.

That’s just one of the many reasons I hate feminism with a passion.

Why poems liked this one offend me so deeply.

Megha's World

This fifth poem is a part of the anthology of poems based on the Seven deadly sins. Do read the previous ones too, if you haven’t yet.

Sloth(Acedia) – excessive laziness or the failure to act and utilize one’s talents.

Thou seest how sloth wastes the sluggish body, as water is corrupted unless it moves.
– Ovid

SlothA cessation of motion
an inability to work
you are indifferent
to emotions
trapped in a
cold stone heart
comfortably numb from inside
filled with apathy
reeking of sluggishness
running away from your
duties and obligations
as far you can
turning a blind eye
to every
despicable act
makes you somewhat
less than a man.

Picture credit Google.com

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Lost

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Lost within the woods of anger and hatred
wandering alone and frightened in circles
over shadowed by the darkness of despair
hopelessly searching for the pathway home

Where is the fork in the road I choose to take?
those many long years ago sowing wild oats
retracing my steps fleeing from the bitter harvest
yet the consequences no other choice but to reap

Living only for the present ignoring the future
failing to plan for the storms of life to come
blinded by the perceptions of my youth
now in middle age a mess to clean and straighten

What could have been a fading dream of youth
my only choice to turn from the bitter past
learning from my mis-choices not to repeat them
ever walking forward step by painful step

Focusing on the journey instead of the goal
enjoying the fullness of each fleeting moment
though redemption eludes me still
until at last into the shadow of death I fade

Within the hearts of others we leave behind
memories and images whether good or ill
tools that help or hinder another’s journey
powerful words spoken to heal or destroy

Perhaps after I’m gone and long forgotten
my poems others will read and understand
the mis-choices I’v made; lessons learned hard
my painful and sad consequences they’ll avoid

Taking comfort and warmth from the knowledge
that another has walked this pathway before
blazing a trail; marking the pitfalls of mis-choices
learning from the painful experiences of another

The Icing On the Cake of Marriage

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When a
Man and a woman make
Love

In an act
Of perfect submission
She wraps

Herself
Around her husband’s body
Trusts him

Not to hurt
Her – joins her weakness with
His strength

Engulfs and
Encapsulates him within her
Silken flower

Allows the
Love Of her life to ever
So gently

Prepare the
Fertile soil of her womb for
Conception

By plowing
Her field – hoeing and weeding
Her garden

Sow his
Seed deep within her
As he

Cradles
Her within his arms
Of love

While his lips
Shower her with the raindrops
Of his kisses

Entitled

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My family thinks I’m crazy!

Always have and always will.

They’re “wrong” of course but after two stepmothers, eight stepfathers and four sister in laws.

As well two brothers, one half brother, two step brothers, two adopted sisters and one stepsister.

After attending seventeen different schools in four states, the death of my father from an STD (VD) infection intentionally given to him by one of my step-mothers.

The suicide of my youngest brother about a year or so after his daughter told him to his face; that she would have no problem with going before a judge and falsely claim that my brother had hit her when he’d never touched her.

Along with thirty-six plus years of marriage. Quite frankly I’m entitled to my eccentricities.