A Woman's Apology

I'm sorry
I'm sorry for being the doormat happily trampled upon,
I'm sorry for being silent when rage beckoned
I'm sorry for crying quietly when the world needed to hear
I'm sorry for cooking a meal despite broken fingers
I'm sorry for listening all night when I needed sleep
I'm sorry for moaning & groaning hoping you'll shudder and come to rest
I'm sorry for putting the world always before me
I'm sorry for lame excuses for others who never deserved them
I'm sorry for the 'yesses' when a big 'no' would do,
I'm sorry for glaring when a slap made more sense
I'm sorry for being meek coz brazen is uncalled for
I'm sorry for walking when I should have run
I'm sorry for the guilt I really didn't deserve
I'm sorry for being a "lady" I was never meant to be
I'm sorry for the sorry; but sorry for being a woman, no more.

42

The answer to life is forty two
Now, ask the question, will you?
All old, nothing new
She was all but twenty two

To eat you must chew
Tiddly too, duddley do
Sing a lot, dance a few
You are too old to go boo hoo

Cinderella had one shoe
You can get three too
Fairy was she or a shrew
Pumpkin carriages who drew

Dreams in a box they threw
Find them now, hey you
Or sleep some more, till the dew
Crows caw but pigeons coo

Rhymes are so difficult to do
Bored I am, are you too?
Pointless points coming through
Empty portraits when mind drew

A silly quest by the crew
Never give up, never do
Doubts many, questions few
The answer to life is forty two.

The Forgotten

The disconcerting quiet crept upon her
The silence invading her peace
The absence of words deepening the void
The stillness creeping through her veins
She could hear the beating of her heart
She could feel her mind think
Unwatching that which eyes could see
She willed her hands to scream
But no human sound filtered through
Cacophony, her closest mate
Confusion, her twin
Conundrum, her solace
Forgotten somewhere, lost in the nothingness
She wished to still the screeching of her breath
Safely ensconced in a vile harmony
The madness as it slowly crept upon her
Stealing her words, a writer's vanity.

Burying the Tree

It was silent
Only the clouds screamed
The whistling air stilled
The rustling leaves frozen
Thousand twinkling eyes stared
Even as the moon refused to peek
The night, a charcoal black
Witnessed the gruesome sight
The last of the trees, they fell
Giants cracking beneath tiny feet
At last the eerieness dispelled
His laugh quelled the cry of the skies.

Wanting a Life

I want to run
Run till I can't feel my feet
I want to laugh
Laugh till my stomach hurts and tears stream
I want to dream
Dream till the noon sun burns my face
I want to write
Write till the reeds bend and rivers run dry
I want to read
Read till the yellowed pages begin to blur
I want to sing
Sing till the words run together and birds don't chirp
I want to play
Play till the little ones stop growing old
I want to travel
Travel till civilisations end and History is made
I want to live
Live till my pattering heart beats young...