Poem: Letter to Younger Self

Dear F

Things will change and you will be free.

No more suffocating your inner banshee.

Ignore what they say about your quirks.

No more pretending to hide what irks.

Allow you higher self to shrine through.

Because no one else will do.

Love T

© Image and Text – T. Altman 2017

 

2017 Reading Challenge

Taken from the Modern Mrs Darcy website I took up the following challenge for 2017 and here is my completed list:

A book you chose for the cover:
A Vocation and a Voice: Stories by Kate Chopin

A book with a reputation for being un-put-down-able:
Silver Linings Playbook by Matthew Quick

A book set somewhere you’ve never been but would like to visit:
History of Ancient Egypt by Erik Hornung 

A book you’ve already read:
Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery

A juicy memoir:
Of Ashes and Rivers that Run to the Sea by Marie Munkara

A book about books or reading:
The Oxford Book of English Verse, 1250-1918 by Arthur Quiller-Couch

A book in a genre you usually avoid:
Meditations on First Philosophy by Rene Descaties 

A book you don’t want to admit your dying to read:
The Feminist Manifesto by Mina Loy

A book in the backlist of a new favorite author:
Transformations by Anne Sexton

A book recommended by someone with great taste:
The Yellow Wallpaper; The Wallpaper Replies by Charlotte Perkins Gilman

A book you were exited to buy or borrow but haven’t read yet:
Collected Poems: 1969-1999 by John Forbes

A book about a topic or subject you already love:
See What I Have Done by Sarah Schmidt

Poem: Not Supposed to Be Here

I’m not even supposed to be here today…
Color blinded
Shoe polish stench
Confused and convoluted
Confined in Dante’s 9’s
“I assure you” intoned
“We are open” explained
Nothing quick about it
Purgatory peddler
Conversing rapidly
Fired with intellectual accuracy
Landing with culturally apt referencing
Death star corpse dance
Badly lit yet exposed
Stoner wisdom 37 in all
Free will is yours
I’m not supposed to be here today…
© T. Altman 2017

 

Poem: War explained to child

 

Speaking to my nephew about my father who fought in the Balkans (Albanian Forgotten War):

  

I once asked him:

“What was it like to shoot people in war?”

Sighing, shoulders slumped
Faraway eyes, swallows hard
Staring down at weathered hands
Sighing then inhaling sharply
“We didn’t know what we were shooting at –
Deep in those forests.
It was dark, damp and dank.
We all suffered.
I don’t know…”
He looks away…
We never spoke about it again.
© T. Altman 2017