Tutu Thoughts

On a Sunday full of bells,
while I still
suffered prescribed white dresses
plus the horror
of beige bloomers,

I tied my skirts between my legs
and jumped on a boy’s sweaty back,
to wrap both arms around his neck

until my vise made the demon squeal.
He never tried to steal ice cream money again;
at least, not from my red purse.

As my thirty-eighth Sprouting Grass Moon blooms,

choking my wants out of a strangled life lacks
any kind of real appeal. I think
undue violence… bores me.

My arms remain a ready vise
and my hips balance blade and hammer,
but squealing demons is a waste.

On a Sunday of distant bells,
while I am
sun-clad and life-filled,
I grin at fading thieving demons
(sip coffee) and cackle at tutu thoughts.

Process Note: this might be the most unexpected poem I’ve written for the cruellest month. I was convinced that I wanted to grab the things that bring difficulty to my life and shake them until they squealed. And I tried writing just that… I tried hard… Then I started laughing, because I realized that metaphorically kicking the living lights out of my afflictions gave me no pleasure. On the other hand, cackling while I mentally watched them squirm as their hold over me melted away, well… that made me grin like a half-crazed lunatic. I liked it. I liked it a lot *cackles witchy style*.

***
for NaPoWriMo with Magaly Guerrero 2015, Day 26 – Speak to Your Affliction: Metaphorically sit in front of the thing (or person) that ails you, and let your poem tell it (him or her) exactly what’s in your mind.

linked to
Poets United, Poetry Pantry 249

Tuzki in a Pink TutuTuzki
via

65 thoughts on “Tutu Thoughts

  1. Love this – This brings memories of being a 6 year-old with a red purse that became a weapon against first grade bullies. But, I too, have progress from meeting anger with violence. If I had know my Witchy destiny, then – the boys might have preferred the purse.

    • I wrote a poem full of pummeling and kicking for this. Then I kept on looking it… and noticed it had no soul. Not that I’ve outgrown my pummeling and kicking abilities, we both know I haven’t, but my possible targets are almost no one. It was a good feeling; a nice, calming, hysterical good feeling. 🙂

  2. LOL! This is awesome..! bought back so many memories of facing bullies and smashing the hell out of them with my purse 😀 Absolutely loved this..!! Happy Sunday 😀
    Lots of love
    xoxo

  3. I think this is one of my favourite of your poems this month. The retrospective glance at a girl ready to fight for her dignity (and pocket money) and the gentle observations of the woman grown provide a touching reading experience.

  4. Oh, this is good. There are various ways of dealing, I think. Making the ‘demon’ squeal appeals to me at certain times. Smiles. But at other times the grinning and cackling works wonders too. I enjoyed your process notes greatly.

  5. This has such a complete and burnished feel to it, so natural that reading it is like watching a flower open on a perfect spring day–it fills the heart with the beauty of the world that we only allow ourselves to see and find when we lay down the guards of stress, hostility, worry and anger–not very good protectors anyway; in fact, the reverse. I see this poem as triumphant, and full of wisdom. Very fine writing, as well.

  6. White dresses and beige bloomers brings back memories of every dress I hated to wear especially when someone tried to take my ice cream money…they learned quickly I was not to be trifled with, I also would not have tried to take your ice cream money either btw… 😉

  7. An awesome coming-of-age piece. Bullies: what a childhood misery they were – we all cackle at the thought of having seen the last of them banished from our days. Wonderfully written!

  8. You crack me up! I wish the squeeze til they squeal technique worked on racist cops and other miscarriers of justice who steal lives and the pursuit of happiness! And I am glad you are happy enough to let go of it all and heal thyself.

    • I’m sure the little girl let go of the rage a couple of weeks after it happened. That kind of anger can be consuming and dangerous… About letting go of it all, I’m not so sure… A bit of spunk is good for healing, too. Sometimes, we need to kick something really hard… and then continue singing. 😀

  9. “My arms remain a ready vise”..yessss 🙂 by the way in our school where i teach the uniform is white frock with a red belt for the small ones and white sari for the bigger ones 😀

    • Balance is a wonderful gift to have, isn’t it? Even if we don’t have access to it every single hour of the day… I mean, there is always that idiot that cuts us off and gets everything messy, lol!

  10. Excellent write that made me smile. Sad somehow that we need to leave the freedom of childhood behind – but the child remains within.
    Anna :o]

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