This is just a poem, not directed at anyone personally. But I did have a family member in mind while writing it. Even if I mentioned a name it wouldn't make any difference. No one in my family reads my poetry or visits my site. I'll be lucky to even get a review on this. Sobeit!
When you fall, and you will, I hope it was worth the thrill. Now you have to suffer the chill, as you tumble down the hill. Hope you have great climb ability, getting back up takes great agility.
While you were flying, you never noticed the oil frying. The pot had your name, the heat was your flame. The cook wore red, had horns on his head.
Your mind was so consumed, you never noticed you were doomed. A warning knock came to your door, but it you did ignore. You thought you were tough, but actually you're only a cream puff.
Oh I know what it feels like ...to be ignored....not even talking about my poetry...than is a definite NO-NO...but I learned to do the "Zap" signs well.....lol!!
Love Tinka
Reviewed by Rebecca Burns (Reader)
Reviewed on May 17, 2005
Dear G,
I learned to deal with my family almost ignoring my writing for years. When I started my novel and allowed them to read some I think they were horrified to think that I would include things I have lived, the things they tried to forget and bury. Since that time I no longer offer them the chance to read my work. They know it is here, it they don't have the time, their loss, not mine.
You move people with your words, When U Fall reminded me of a frying pan incident when I was growing up and the cook did have horns, not a nice one, but hey.
Sincerely,
Rebecca
In a post-coup America, an Illinois farm boy is drawn into the resistance by his brother's death. Captured, he is given a choice: betray his friends, or the girl he loves will be lobotomized.
The deep-dive literary meditations presented as stories, poems, and essays in The American Poet Who Went Home Again, A Mosaic of My Soul at Work, have captivated and inspired readers ever since its first paperback publication in 2008.
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Love Tinka
I learned to deal with my family almost ignoring my writing for years. When I started my novel and allowed them to read some I think they were horrified to think that I would include things I have lived, the things they tried to forget and bury. Since that time I no longer offer them the chance to read my work. They know it is here, it they don't have the time, their loss, not mine.
You move people with your words, When U Fall reminded me of a frying pan incident when I was growing up and the cook did have horns, not a nice one, but hey.
Sincerely,
Rebecca