Well I've poured my heart out these last couple of weeks as part of my on-going re-birth.

So to tell you a little more, I've tried my hand at poetry. I was a maths and science girl as a child, so this is something new to me.

--------------------------------------------------------
             
           Elizabeth

Loving infant, so warm so kind
Is teased by others cruel of mind
Although once pure, in innocence
She learns the chilling difference
A prayer now each and every night
Tomorrow morn, to be put right.

Now an act, a scene she'll play
A suffocating masque each day
Till in secret, while none about
Her hidden self, can step on out
And in the mirror she can see
The girl she knows she's meant to be

The teenage girl, knows she's been cursed
As nature's poison does its worst
The pain now she resolves to hide
To bury deep, so deep inside
And though she swears she will not cry
The hurt will simply multiply

Now an act, a scene she'll play
A suffocating masque each day
Till in secret, while none about
Her hidden self, can step on out
And in the mirror almost sees
The girl she knows she ought to be

The adult cover's now a cage
Feminine ink, still on each page
Seeking answers, of what to do
She finds others, suffering too
For some the pain becomes too great
We mourn the souls the hurt will take

No more acts, or scenes to play
As new friends help to show the way
A truth denied, an inner war
But she won’t fight it any more
The dam has burst, the tears shall flow
The doors unlocked, she's free to grow

Resolved now to a future bright
She picks a path for her that's right
Minds may hate and bigot's mock
But none so cruel as life's own clock
In honesty she takes her chance
To finally, .... discard the masque.

--------------------------------------------------------

Luv to you all, Elizabeth Emily Tyler.

Hi Lizzie

The value of being over 60 is that the dieting can always start next Monday.

Plump Hugs
Annie

Sarah, I'm glad you liked it.

As for 'life's own clock'. You are right, it's through that passage of time that we get to where we are to day. I guess my thought at the time, was of the regret of the waisted years in denial.

As for the picture (there's a larger one on the web page). I sent Stevie a note confessing that it was really a posed photo. I had to many shots with very bad red-eye, so thought I would 'do something' rather than look direct at the camera. And with that rather goth girl top on, lighting candles seemed ideal. Not so much as a candlelit dinner, more of a nice evening in, with a bottle of wine.
We are both of diets these days, the price of being over 30 I guess.

Thank you for letting us share your thoughts in such a moving way.

I cried.

Well I'm glad a couple more of you liked it. When I tried to answer the 'Why' thread that I realised just how much had come out subconsiously in this poem.

Ricka if you could put it to music that would be fantastic.

I never took poetry, music, art etc seriously at school, instead burying myself in science and maths. I sometimes wonder if it was another form of denial - not wanting to appear feminine. So this has been my one and only serious attempt at poetry, as for music I took up the guitar a few years back, but haven't really progressed too far. I have tried putting it to music but I haven't got any where with it.

So Ricka please be my guest, send me an mp3 or something if you succeed.

Incidently when trying musical ideas I also considered other genres to ballards. I even tried approaching it from a goth rock angle, mine you that may have been cos I had just seen Marilyn Mansun's take on Tainted Love on one of the music channels.

Having it published... uhm

Music by Ricka, Words by Liz Tyler that would be sooooo nice.

Luv Liz

Your poem was fantastic - wish I could write as well as that. As another post 50 person I must say that it is encouraging to find I am not alone.

Hi Lizzie

The price of being over 50 is to be on a perpetual diet, but it never works. ;D

Hugs

Sarah

P.S.

That is a lovely picture of you and you haven't answered Stevie's question about the romantic dinner. Do tell.

Chin, chin

Sarah

Hi Lizzie

Thank you for sharing your thoughts with us. I too was moved by your poem but I do take issue (it must be my day for taking issue) with one of your sentiments.

But none so cruel as life's own clock

Cruel in one way but kind in another and better way. It's "life's own clock" that brings us self-knowledge, wisdom, and contentment; that brought you to where you are today, which seems to be better than where you were yesterday.

Although I could do without some of life's baggage, mostly under the eyes and around the tummy. ;D ;D ;D

Hugs

Sarah