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My Own Girlfriend, poem


Davie

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I have now learned anothetr poetic genre I need explore (if there are English translations out there).

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3 hours ago, Shay said:

I have now learned another poetic genre I need explore (if there are English translations out there).

Good info on this from Sea Gabriel, a learned scholar of myth are: Clunes Ross,  she's a writer, and Peter Hallbert, on norse poetry. Enjoy.

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I absolutely love your style. Your work has a beautiful, natural flow. The imagery is wonderful. I wrote one that Some poets write eloquently 

In cursive with fountain pens, I write in block letters with crayons. You definitely write eloquently. T

 

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Work

 

First:
worked on farm,
shoveled manure.
Next:
worked as writer,
shoveled manure.
Last:
cleaned houses.
Best job I ever had.

 

 

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  • Forum Moderator

All jobs I had were shoveling mature because I couldn't show the real me.

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  • 2 weeks later...
2 hours ago, Shay said:

Not sure I understand this one.

It's for people like me who over-think the simple pleasures in life.

"When walking, just walk, Davie" I should tell myself. "Just stay in the now."

It's easy for me to gather too much information. I'll try to listen now.

Yours,

Davie

 

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Gosh that has been me most of my life - living in the now is difficult when you aren't even in the right body. My mind drifts that. Enjoying the moment as it is all you actually have is important. I practice by just stopping and taking in everything I can with all my senses, not judge, just enjoy.

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Trans Girl Plays Tackle Football

 

1963. Daddy said
it would make a man out
of me—toughen me up.
Toughen me up for a
285-pound tackle to
crush a 115-pound body.
Toughen me up to become
proud to be counting  
my own concussions.
Toughen me up to
embarrass him less.
Make a man out of me
by getting raped
in the shower room.  
Trans Girl Plays
Tackle Football,
1963.

 

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  • Forum Moderator

Sorry you suffered these pains. Glad you are facing and dealing and adding great poetry as well.

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Thanks, Heather @Shay . Many have suffered worse. All my suffering I carry to my writing—the fertilizer is excellent, and the release is divine.

— Davie

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  • Forum Moderator

@Davie and yet another beautifully words phrase. You remind me of Margaret Atwood. She is my favorite author in that she can say more in a sentence then most authors can say in a chapter.

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  • Forum Moderator

"beatifully words" - how about "beautifully worded"

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Your Symphony of 1805
      (to Tolstoy)

 

After eight listenings  
I’ve learned the meanings
between your musical lines.
With the first passage in war,
the second resolving to peace—
the dead honoring the living.
They deliver a final tonic triad
every time—like Lucy in this guy,
like a dream, serene, pastorale, like
aliens who save us from ourselves.

 

The coda is always an
interior harmonic goal, in
tonic triad or final cadence.
God doesn’t play dice with
our universe—he plays music
to entice us to heaven’s gate.
At the final chord, we rise—
with one hand on harmony,
no applause better than silent
reverie, meditation instruction
from our higher selves to the
lower notes that live in us all.
We don’t fight, we surrender
to peace, we surrender.

 

 

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  • Forum Moderator

love this line.............

"he plays music
to entice us to heaven’s gate."

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  • 3 weeks later...

Pixie Says   

 

“Like swatting a fly with an electron—it doesn’t work, but it’s the buzzing that kills ya, anyway. And like the buzzing of workers in office buildings—office buildings are only tall trees full of hatred with each guy’s shoes standing on the fingers of the one below: digging those heels in until your own blood drips from the branches into your eyes while the guy at the top screams down at you how much he loves your youngest daughter. And you find yourself singing along—adding a verse to the Star Spangled Banner about mosquitos and their loyalty for the buzzing, buzzing, buzzing of electrons.”

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  • Forum Moderator

@Davie once again a very well written and insightful piece of work. These ideas and such should evolve into a fascinating new book. Keep it up.

 

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  • Forum Moderator

So true. When I get out of my own way and let the muse speak through me, good things manifest.

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  • 1 year later...
On 9/27/2021 at 11:32 PM, Davie said:

Trans Girl Plays Tackle Football

 

1963. Daddy said
it would make a man out
of me—toughen me up.
Toughen me up for a
285-pound tackle to
crush a 115-pound body.
Toughen me up to become
proud to be counting  
my own concussions.
Toughen me up to
embarrass him less.
Make a man out of me
by getting raped
in the shower room.  
Trans Girl Plays
Tackle Football,
1963.

 

 

Father doesn't really care about seeing my JV football games—he just needs me to look like a normal boy to other people—so then HE can feel like a real father, a real man, who doesn't breed weird sissy-boy freaks (LIKE ME). So HE can really feel like a real father. No cheerleader skirt, no pom-poms.

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  • 1 month later...

What Eggs Say  

 

I’m now the little girl
I always wanted to be
but you see the old man
I never wanted to be—
I wanted to be,
wanted to be,
to be me.

 

You see, little girls
can look like me—
you never know,
never know,
and look like me,
you know?

 

When you crack
egg-shaped eggs,
you might find a
baby-chick chick or  
maybe crocodile teeth
or maybe girly girls,
you never know, or
an old-man girl,
you never know,
you know?

 

So look in the most
beautiful of smiles and
look into her eyes to see,
and wait for some words
to tell you her frights—
to see who she always
must be—day after day
in all seven days,
in all seven ways.

 

She will make it pay,
so please realize why
I say: The important    
part inside each egg
is the story. A story of
what she was and a story
of who she is, she is,
what she will be
will be.


— Davie, 12-14-22

 

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