when a woman decides to forget (For all women battling domestic violence)

My long time followers know I am a crusader against domestic abuse. A precious friend finds herself trapped in a relationship of physical/mental abuse. Although her husband will never read my poem, this is for him and all the other losers.

when a woman decides to forget

a white table cloth
stained by unspoken words
lays dead in a frigid kitchen
like a red rose in a morgue of poetry
a barren tree outside the window
extends branches of remorse
for once a fallen leaf has wilted
it can never be reset
some fires can’t be rekindled
there is no going back
when a woman decides to forget

How Many Flowers Have To Die (Tears For Parkland, Florida)

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How Many Flowers Have To Die

 

Beautiful gardens full of life

warming us with their hope.

Gardens so full of innocence,

the innocence we lose every

time a storm of hate invades.

When will we cultivate love,

or are we waiting to discover

how many flowers have to die.

 

Photo from Google Images.

My deepest condolences to the the victims, families, and community of Parkland, Florida.  Florida.

 

 

Happy International Day For the Elimination of Violence Against Women

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Yes, I know what you are thinking. Lonely Author is not playing with a full deck.

Well, this Chimp may have misplaced a few of his picture cards, but there is a method to his madness. Please bear with me.

Yes, I realize this is nine months early (November 25th).

Friends asked why I ignored International Woman’s Day on March 8th. Honesty, these days fail to excite me.

For those of you who have followed me closely, you know where this is coming from.

Why do we need these days?

Here we are in the 21st century and women are still abused, underpaid, and unappreciated. And I’m not even talking about the atrocities against women or the exploitation of young girls happening in many countries around the world.

That is why I don’t get excited about these days. I don’t think they are helping. Not the way I wish they would.

I will leave you with this thought.

Shouldn’t everyday be International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women?

Or better yet…

Shouldn’t we live in a world where we don’t need an International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women?

Be well butterflies.

 

Fragments Of Me (Time)

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Adults always complained about time.

Never enough time for this; not enough time for that.

My parents were at a dinner party; while I stayed at my friend’s house. I was summoned to the phone.

Barely eleven, I listened to my mother sobbing. Apparently, my drunkard father slapped her in front of all their friends. “Please check  on the house.”

Two flights up, I unlocked the door with a spare key. Moonlight filled the dark apartment.
Terrified, I walked through the quiet living room until I reached the long hallway leading to the back of our home.

I froze.

The man I hated for all of my young life, the tyrant who abused us, lay on the floor with a gun resting inches from his hand.

Fear, relief, joy, and sadness flowed through me like light through a prism.

Fighting the urge to run away, I approached him. The rise and fall of his back confirmed he lived.

Time for my first adult decision even though I knew it meant a beating the next day.

Dropping to one knee, my trembling hand reached for the gun. The weapon appeared to weigh a ton.

I thought of tucking it in my pants like they do in the movies. Then a odd thought crept into my mind.

Whoever said dog is man’s best friend didn’t have a pee-pee.

Shoving the weapon in my jacket pocket I ran out and didn’t stop running until I reached the black railing overlooking the East River.

Removing the gun from my pocket I stared into the barrel.

Why would anyone want to end their life?

There by the river, in a city of eight million people, surrounded by a magnificent skyline, I never felt so alone.

Making my second adult decision, I tossed the gun into the river.

That little boy stood there another hour, admiring the crescent moon, the river, and the city he called home.

He wouldn’t help but wonder…..

If time was as precious as people say, why do adults waste so much of it on hate and violence.

Love and Abuse

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Sorry, no poetry today, but love remains the topic.

Several months ago, I wrote a poem entitled, “For So Long.” (Here is the link for anyone who missed it.)

https://thelonelyauthorblog.wordpress.com/2015/11/03/for-so-long/

It was about a good friend who always finds herself trapped in abusive relationships. When I wrote it, my best friend had an incident with her lover.

Weeks later, in December, she came to live with me after another episode. Against my advice, she eventually went running back to “love.”

Late last night she called needing a place to stay. She and her three dogs will be moving into an extra bedroom in my apartment later this month.

Again, I will tell her seasons change, people rarely do.

She probably won’t listen.

Every major relationship in my life, my closest female friends, Ex’s, and even my current wife, I was left picking up the pieces after violent relationships.

As a child, many nights I lay in bed listening to my father whipping my mother.

And I was too scared to do anything…..

Can someone please tell me why I am magnet for abused women? Why does domestic violence appear to always follow me?

And somone please tell me why in this day and age there is a month (October) and day designated to stopping violence against women?

SHOULDN’T THAT BE EVERY FREAKING DAY???

This Chimp asks you: when are we going to evolve?

Love and abuse.

Those two words should never appear in the same sentence, let alone the same home.