An Open Letter

An open letter to the person that was supposed to love me

Aug 8, 2017 at 3:37 PM

Let me take you back to when it all started.
Thursday, October 20th 1994. 6 pounds, 10 ounces…… You loved me then. You loved me at my most vulnerable. In the years following, I grew up quickly. I picked up animals on the side of the road( no matter how grotesque) and asked you to help me bury them just so that they would have a place to rest.
I’m 5 now, you can probably see the light shone between my gap teeth in my school pictures. They called me horse. Where were you?
You and Dad knew it was time to sign divorce papers. Time for both of you to move on and be happy. About 6 months later I met your boyfriend. We went to RJ Gators and you told me you were getting married. To some man I didn’t even know…. what about how I feel?
From then on, I realized that he was your entire world ( & rightfully so )
You were never my friend, you were never my therapist. You were never the person I’d dreamed of. Every day in school, someone would talk about their mom and I would get so jealous. I would get jealous that their mom took them to lunch and then to paint their nails. To have lunch with them. Their moms loved them… but where was mine?
Where were you when I needed someone to tell me I was going to start bleeding and how that felt? Where were you when I needed someone to comfort me and tell me that my first heartbreak was going to feel like my world was ending?
Where were you EVERY SINGLE NIGHT?

Let me paint you a picture:

Kitchen, dinners made, & me. Sitting at the bar, legs dangling. Alone. Every time. I asked you to eat with me but it was an inconvenience. You weren’t hungry.. but I guess beer does that to you. Now I remember… you were on the phone. Where’s my 5 minutes?
I got in trouble for eating in my room, but I kept doing it because I wasn’t alone. I had about 20 stuffed animals and that was good enough for me.
I started working one day a week, and I made $60 a paycheck. Do you want to know where my money went? Clothes. Things I needed. Snacks. Because when you open the fridge you see beer, condiments, and sometimes left overs.
You told me you hated taking me to the grocery store with you because I always asked you to buy me things we didn’t have the money for, and for that, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I wanted to come along instead of sit in my bedroom.
There was a fire, and one of your friends lost their house and you “adopted” two children when you didn’t have the time for one. But hey, who’s looking? The first weekend at the house, you told me you were taking them to the movies, Superplay, and Chilis. My face must have given it away because then you asked me .. did you want to come? I mean obviously??? I’m not going to pass up bowling & an arcade. So she said, fine you can come, but now we can’t go to the movies because I can’t afford it. Before today, you’d NEVER once asked me for a girls day. A movie day. Nothing. Don’t tell me that things cost money because you can easily borrow a movie, or rent a redbox. You always had change in your purse.
Jumping a little further ahead, I got a little mouthy and began to talk back. Don’t we all at 15? I got a job and I worked as a server and in the kitchen ( for the free food ). I came home late because they close late. I had this job for a little while until you decided it was time for me to be on my own. Your reason? Because I was never home. Pretty ironic if you ask me.
So I couch hopped, you’d send me $20 here and there to help with gas for a car that eventually got repossessed because I was trying to juggle school and a full time job to support myself. Where were you to teach me about car payments? To tell me that is a REALLY dumb idea.
Shortly after, I started developing some medical issues and at one point, I needed to go to the hospital. You took me there and waited until they brought me back… then you left. I had no way home and no money to call someone. So, my friends mom left school and picked me up.
Jumping ahead just a few years, I decided I would join the Army! I’ve never seen you more proud. I was your world. You posted all over your Facebook.
A few months later * my body ached with pain and I came home. I told you a week ahead of time that I would be, and you said you couldn’t nor would you find a way to bring me home from the airport.
I was dead to you. Now you had to tell your friends I was a failure. You didn’t have a daughter who was extraordinary. You didn’t have someone to make you proud.
I married my best friend in 2013. You wanted to involve yourself in my life. He’s in the Air Force, and you always ask me what he likes and how is he doing?
But what about me? You have no idea what I like. You have no idea who I am.
What.About.Me?

Hi! Cadlynne Dovel here, hopeless romantics. Withering relationship, mother of one and animal lover beyond what words can express.

Blog: https://n0tyetforgotten.wordpress.com/

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

If you would like to have your work published in The Poetry Bar send your poem, a few words about yourself and the link to your blog and Instagram account to the e-mail poetrybar1@gmail.com

The Flip Side of the Snake (Venomous Eulogy)

Sometimes I try to wrap my head around the fact that you spit vitriol venom on the daily on my young impressionable mind, and that shit sticks in the deep recesses of my thoughts, but Mom’s openness far outweighs a larger percentage of my sense of self. Words of hate I don’t use nor want to use or to write, so I won’t.

That was your beef.

Although that one fight when you said you hated Mom’s People (The Syrians) and were proud to be Aryan!, but straight up ? I think there was not just German but Jewish in your heritage….but I’ll never know, now.

I can respect your decision to break the cycle of violence that you and your brother suffered from your Dad & Step Mom but why was it so hard to go full circle ? Why when my brother picked on me did you feel the need to join in ? To fuel the flame ?

Those bizarre needs to pretend to throw me into a creek or over a bridge, that personal derision of constantly calling me “Little Shirl” ? I sometimes wonder why the hell you and Mom married in the first place or why divorce as opposed to death was never on the table.

When on Mom’s burial day, I grew weak in the knees and you approached me with a comfort hug and I PUSHED you away.

There was a lot of distrust and anger prior to February 7th, 2002. After that day, I tried my damndest to put up steel wall’s but at best they were only aluminum.

And the distance grew at great lengths.

But there was resolve. And now you’re but a memory. The depression is there minus the anxiety, but my mind is clear. Far more clear than the dark cloud that loomed from 2002-2010.

This is just another day.

Yet a more peaceful, day.

Matt Snyder has been writing and doing all things in the arts probably all of his 49 years. He has been actively involved in the Lehigh Valley arts scene since 1988. He’s had work published in various small press publications in the ’90’s, food, music and artistic reviews for local newspapers and publications, written for the film & stage and slammed his poetry at both Mayfair festival of the arts and with Red Sun productions at Touchstone Theater in the aughts. He can currently be found blogging at : aprolificpotpourri.wordpress.com

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

If you would like to have your work published in The Poetry Bar send your poem, a few words about yourself and the link to your blog and Instagram account to the e-mail poetrybar1@gmail.com

How to kill a dragon by cleaning up your room

Getting a haircut is a pretty basic thing to most people. It really depends on the individual but most visit their barber or hair stylist once a month. My hair grows so fast that I should actually see him twice a month and I’m not counting my beard yet.

Anyways, here I am again sitting on the side, waiting for my turn to get the lawn mowed. Most people listen to music or text someone. Waiting is annoying and a waste of time but hell, you’re waiting for something you need and what else would you do? I however, actually learned to enjoy it. It’s extra time to rest and to think or just to take a break from running back and forth and constantly trying to get things done while screwing up and going from one meltdown to another.
Yeah, a few extra minutes to catch some breath are not bad at all.

But what I found particularly interesting is to watch people and the things that unfold around me as I sit there wasting time and being useless. Really, when you take the earbuds out and put your phone away for one damn minute you will be surprised how much you miss when you don’t pay attention to your surroundings.
The owner of the barber-shop, Engin, has recently hired a new trainee. Knowing his impulsive behavior, I was wondering how that would work out because the trainee is someone I would generally call a gentle giant. He was twice the size of him (both in height and width) and a rather passive type of guy. Engaging in conversations with customers and asking them to leave a review while cheerfully joking around with them was probably the last thing he would naturally do. The problem was though.. this is exactly what his boss expected from him.

It didn’t take long until the lady that also worked there – probably his wife, it’s hard to tell sometimes – started getting annoyed and telling him to leave the boy alone for a minute. Apparently this was already going on all day and Engin got pretty worked up because his trainee wasn’t really magically transforming into an extrovert after drowning him in lectures about customers and haircuts for several hours. Who would have thought.
The interesting thing about this though, he was still right. He had his facts and lessons straight and delivered properly his information would have not only sticked, his trainee would start being curious to learn more instead of continuously rolling his eyes and making even more mistakes because he is being distracted constantly by his passive-aggressive boss who buzzes around his head like a fly on cocaine.

I found it particularly interesting because if you think about it: This is the same thing we do with ourselves when something is not going right in our lives, it’s our fault and we try to talk sense into ourselves.
You should really quit smoking.
You should stop drinking.
You should eat less crap.
You should get a degree.
You should find a better job.
You should get rid of that guy that’s been using you.
You should clean out the basement.
I could literally go on like this all day and 5% to none of that will happen within a day, a week or even a month of telling that yourself. Why?
Because it’s hard. It’s tough and annoying and we don’t have time and we’re low on sleep and energy and we have shit to do and we can’t afford it or literally any excuse which is not far enough out of reach right now. And hell, it is tough and not an easy job to do at all. Otherwise we would have done it long ago. And we hit ourselves with all of it like Engin with his trainee, constantly and it’s just way too much to handle at once – not to mention actually doing it.
It’s a big bad dragon sitting in that cave, sleeping on that treasure you really want but well, there’s a dragon and it will probably fry up your butt and that’s the end of you.

But what if I told you that you don’t necessarily need to go out into the Unknown, armed with a paper plate and a plastic fork to fight a dragon that will probably use you as a toothpick. You don’t need to.
Not only because it’s a stupid idea but also because you’re simply not ready to take on the entire dragon at once from zero. Why don’t you just start out in your own little dungeon instead? How about your room?
First, your room is known territory. It’s where you live, sleep, eat and watch stupid shows on Netflix. It’s known, or what we would ironically call “order”. But the thing is, sometimes it’s far from anything remotely close to order. You might be a conscientious and orderly person and more power to you if you don’t deal with struggling to remain things in order all the time but I’m pretty bloody sure that most people do, especially working full time jobs with kids and other business to attend to in between.

So your room basically represents it’s own little micro-cosmos filled with your ideas, your work, the things you enjoy and a massive load of stuff that you should get rid of or at least get out of the way. You spend a lot of time in this place, you sleep there and the impression that it leaves on you is far more significant than you think. It’s in your face every morning and every night, the things in there are tied to memories and plans, to chores and responsibility and to rest and coziness. Wouldn’t you think that this little realm of yours, the sanctuary of your mind, your own little world should be a place you enjoy spending time in? Without loads of laundry staring  at you from the corner of your bed and rubbish poking you in the back wherever you try to sit on? Without layers of paperwork clogging your mind as soon as you enter the room because believe me, this is the first things you see when you enter the room and there is still stuff laying around you need to attend to. And yes, you might be good at ignoring it and banning it into the corner of your head so it’s not in your face all the time. Good job.
But it’s still there, isn’t it? And it is always making you feel uncomfortable in some way whenever you remember that it’s there.

Why don’t you just start there? Cleaning up your room is considerably easier than you think it is. Throwing things out you no longer need feels amazing and liberating in some sense. Getting laundry folded and put away or even doing it in the first place rewards you with fresh clothes (that smell great by the way) and a lot more room for you and the things you like. And you’d surprised how much space your room has once all the things are put away or gotten rid of which are not where they belong.
And the best part: It’s easy and it makes a massive difference in how you feel about your life whenever you enter your room. You feel more in control again and the space you just gained is roughly equivalent with space for thoughts and ideas and good things in your mind because it’s not occupied with chores and a mess anymore.
And from there, it’s an easy step to the next thing you should take care of. Now you have more room and mental capacity to progress further and you might even figure out other problems while cleaning up because you might find lost paperwork again or come up with an idea how to solve a problem. And once you’re in that loop of progress you can use this momentum to try to tackle more issues and solving them one after another.

So when you finally reach that dragon you’ve been dealing with for so long and you will most likely notice one thing: it’s not that damn large anymore and by far not as scary as you pictured it to be at first. With every small thing you took care of along your way the dragon shrunk a bit and you got a bit stronger, wiser and more confident. You leveled up in some way. And I’m not saying that it won’t put up a fight still. Damn, some things are hard to get under control. Sometimes so hard that people still fail and need to try it several times. But the chances that you are gonna defeat that thing are considerably better if there are no other things in your life weighing you down and weakening you.
And eventually, you will stop smoking or drinking. You will pay attention to your diet and break up with your douche bag boyfriend and enroll into college and find a job that doesn’t slowly kill you while starving you to death. Or whatever it is that used to be too damn hard to consider doing. You will slay that damn dragon.
But first, you should clean up your room. 🙂

Blog: https://auroraborealys.wordpress.com/

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

If you would like to have your work published in Post Prose send your submission to poetrybar1@gmail.com with a few words about yourself and a link to your blog!

2017 tried to break me

2017 has come to an end, I just want to take a moment to let you know, for me this is how it’s been.

A couple of resolutions that I finally made my priority, when I put my mind to something, then you know that it isn’t a maybe but a 100% guarantee. I have worked my ass off (quite literally) to be the best possible version of me I can be. I have won some, lost some but I continue to start each day with a fresh perspective, renewed purpose and try again. I’m still proud of the better me, that I strive each day to be.

My physical health was one of those top priorities and I’m happy to report that there’s a much healthier and smaller version of me going into 2018. It’s astonishing the difference a few pounds can have on so many things. I found an amazing gym family that always sets their focus on empowering women, positive vibes, inspiring, the beauty in each member and lots of dancing, laughing, booty werk and all the sillyness that fits me perfectly.

Unfortunately I did have a few health issues that required 3 emergency surgeries and I’m still recovering from the last one. I pray it gets better and don’t lose my sight permanently.

Another focus was to dig down deep in order to sit with my anger, pain, and finally talk about some of the broken pieces that have been hidden inside for an eternity. While that has taken a toll on some relationships, finally calling someone out on their bullshit was quite therapeutic for me.

I shouldn’t have been so surprised when you waited until no one was around in order to spew all that hatred and completely obliterate every part of me but at the end of the day, you will forever stay stuck with only the memories and the knowledge that you will never again hear from me. Continue to twist the words for sympathy, turn others againist me, but please remember I know who you really are since those evil pieces were inherited by me. The difference is I turn it inward instead of using it as arsenal againist those I call family. I’ll be the scapegoat of your pretend fairytale family since you’ve paid such close attention to convince others and have a real talent for re-writing the truth out of actual history. I’m the one covered in the physical and mental scars of your choices, your mistakes, your neglect so there is no lying to me.

My little Sky bear, a true gift from God, has absolutely grown into the most perfect guy and I cherish his love, laughter and all the sweetness he shows me. I am so proud of him in so many ways, his heart, his intelligence, his strength, his ambition, his complete acceptance and the many things he has taught me. I adore his morning hugs and cuddles and the fact that I get to be his Mom, his safe place and I love him 100% unconditionally.

I’ve experienced some amazing success, loss, heartbreak but still was able to find my inner peace. I have laughed so hard that I could barely breathe. I’ve cried so hard all I could do was fall to the floor and beg God for his loving mercy.

In some of my darkest hours I found myself completely alone, I know I’m a complex person but just needed the same love and support in return that I have always shown. I’ve given up control of a few things in order to better focus my energy on those most important to me. I have realized that there is a very small number of people in this entire world that I can depend on if I’m in an emergency, go to for advice, won’t judge or share my words and accepts my crazy, silly, loud, broken and all the sharp edges that makeup the pieces that are me.

Thanks to the devastation from hurricane Harvey, I’ve lived through some terrifying and stressful moments that still continue. When you see your whole life floating under water it is a new sadness that I didn’t want to know. Trying to rebuild this house isn’t an easy task and it still doesn’t have the same warm feeling as the place I use to call my home.

We are no closer to being finished as we were a month ago, in fact the only things accomplished so far are new walls, partial flooring, and some doors half done so a long road ahead until I can finally say we are done.

Water has always been my safe place, something that provided comfort but now the rain brings back those memories of quite desperation and the fear of the unknown.

The kindness of a few people, mostly complete strangers, fed my family, provided necessities, even helped with demo when there was no one else who was here to help my family. It was a surreal feeling not knowing how I would fed my family, we were stuck, no vehicles, no kitchen, no frig or freezer so only some pantry items that didn’t get ruined and I didn’t eat for days to ensure my guys had enough because that’s what was most important to me.

Thanksgiving day came & went, we had chips & dips and went driving around since I finally had a car again to get out of the house and see some preblack Friday deals. I truly felt like a failure as a mom since that is never the thanksgiving memory I wanted him to have but couldn’t prepare him a big feast and with no invites for dinner I did the best I could with what I had.

I hope and pray that 2018 is a more joyful year and that we are able to put all the missing & broken pieces together and re-direct our focus on the hopes, dreams and make many happy memories that will bring smiles to my little family because that is what I hold close to my heart and their happiness is most important to me.

Blog: https://thebrokeninsideofme.com/

Some days a domestic goddess, and other days a lost woman that still hasn’t bothered to brush her hair. My journey is full of life’s whimsical tales, love, laughter, heartache, trauma, passion, fantasy and everything in between.   My writing is raw, sometimes too raw but I write it anyways, it’s my truth, my voice and I will share it. I’ve been described as honest, even complicated and have a whole lot of sassy undertones, so things get interesting,  even comical at times.

Glad you are here and hope you enjoy reading my thoughts, stories and poems, as much as I enjoyed writing them!

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

If you would like to have your work published in Post Prose send your submission to poetrybar1@gmail.com with a few words about yourself and a link to your blog!

Question of Perspective

I can feel the weight of Emma inside of me. It’s evenly distributed, but heavy nonetheless. To be honest it’s a comfort, an early sign of what’s to come. The weight of her body lets me know that it’s nearly time to go home. Or as close to home as possible.

Emma’s family came to visit yesterday. I must admit I was very nervous for their arrival as I wasn’t sure whether these people were coming for another round of chopping, cutting, scraping and colouring. I was relieved to find out they only came to see Emma. Though her mother did mention how beautiful I was, she was the only one to acknowledge me at all. The rest of her family members seemed to look through me, as if I were invisible. However, I refused to allow their negativity to burden me further. It was the likes of them that brought me here and made me what I am today. I didn’t ask for this.

Emma and I were left to get acquainted in a small room of which boasted soft glowing candles and colourful windows. That was until we were transported to an even smaller room that moved, just after flowers had been placed on top of us by sullen men in matching suits. I saw other moving rooms as we made our way to a large field with a stone house in the centre. I spot Emma’s mum and her red eyes fill with tears as soon as she notices our arrival. She turns her back and cries into the shoulder of a man I’ve never seen before. He certainly wasn’t there yesterday with the rest of the family. He is very tall, thin and gaunt. His presence unnerves me for reasons I can’t explain.

“Why is she crying? Why does everyone look so… Red?” I say to Emma.

Silence. I admit defeat and promise myself not to dwell on it. Today is my day and she can’t ruin it for me. Even if we are being forced to spend the foreseeable future together, they do say time is a healer.

After another wait in a long room that was packed with red faced people, we are finally brought back into the field. The men who are holding us are big and strong, not dissimilar to the first men I ever met not too long ago. I notice everyone looking at me as Emma and I were placed at the front of the room. Some people placed trembling hands on me, while others simply stared. It is hard to enjoy the attention when the atmosphere feels thick with despair and swirling with sadness. After what felt like an age, Emma and I were finally positioned to be lowered into the ground.

“Earth you are, and to earth you will return,” says the man who is sprinkling a rain-like substance on top of us. Oh, how I’ve missed the rain. If only my roots were still intact, perhaps I could have quenched this dry thirst. I still feel Emma’s weight on top of me, but then I finally feel the cool earth underneath me. I take the opportunity to revel in the familiarity of the earth and find myself holding Emma closer. I think myself to be luckier than most. Some never get the opportunity to be as close to home as this.

“I know it must be hard to leave your family and friends, but I’m going to help you return to the Earth. That way, you will always be near them.”

Written by: https://jenwrites.video.blog/

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

If you would like to have your work published in Post Prose send your submission to poetrybar1@gmail.com with a few words about yourself and a link to your blog!

Post Prose – GUEST POSTS WANTED

Guess what!? We got 4k followers!!!!

And you know the time has come for a new Guest Post category. I decided to stay in my lane with this one, this is again for my fellow writers and it’s called Post Prose.

The title says it all. You just need to send your story, short story, a part of the book you’re writing etc. with a few words about yourself and the link to your blog to poetrybar1@gmail.com. I am not creating a new e-mail address for this one, because I have like 6 of them so let’s see what you have to show the world. Can’t wait to read all of your beautiful stories. I actually got this idea because some of you sent some prose works for The Poetry Bar and I decided it was time to start posting them. I think I got two already saved for publication.

Now, make my inbox filled with your submission.

Thank you for everything!

Sending love and positive vibes,

Luna