Amra Pajalic

Scar tissue

You flay me with your words

gouging my flesh to ribbons

with your whip-like tongue

leaving scars that you pretend

not to see, but that I always feel.

Every time I dress I see them,

little white lines criss crossing my back

a map marking our relationship.

Each time you whip me anew

the scars re-open and blood oozes out,

but you don’t see as I stand before you

blood dripping down my body.

Soon the skin on my back will be covered

with the thick rigid scar tissue

and there will be no more unbroken skin

for your whip to land.

I will disappear,

parcels of my flesh will fall away,

my bones will chip away to dust,

my beating heart all that is left,

until you pluck it out of my chest,

throw it on the ground,

pierce it with your pitchfork

and leave it to rot.

Eat Child Eat

As I feed you child

I lose my pride

as I beg and plead

desperate to succeed.

‘Swallow,’

I shout

as you wallow,

but you hold out

and keep the food

that you chewed

in your mouth.

I lose my youth

and grow old

as I scold

chase you about

while you pout.

‘Eat child eat

you’ll get a treat.’

You open wide

quickly swallow

to the pantry follow

down the lolly slides

big smiles all around,

again you win this round.

Almost a Poem

The aim was to write a poem

every day of January

Day 25 and 24 poems are done

I wanted to win the crown

And make it to thirty one

But now all I do is frown

This blog was my sanctuary

Now it’s my ball and chain

Maybe I should abstain

And move on

Be happy with what has come

Before today

Does this count as another one?

We sleep

You lie on my arm

Curled against my side

Your breath on my skin

Together we sleep

You lie on me

Stomach against stomach

Your head on my breast

Together we sleep

We spoon

One arm is your pillow

You hug the other to your chest

Together we sleep

I love to look at your sweet face

Press kisses on your round cheeks

And together we sleep

As your fingers trace

the birthmark on my neck

One day I’m a genius

The next day I’m a hack

Some days I want to go back

And not write that first word

But this caper is addictive

Sometimes it’s restrictive

It’s words that I am infected

with, Even when I get rejected

I go back and try again

Words invade my brain

Spill out of my fingertips

On the page they collect

And then I have to correct

Move and shift them along

Until I find the place they belong

And when I think I’m finished

I have to begin again

Because words invade my brain

***

So I wanted to write about the process of writing. I did two versions. Below is the first version which I banged out and my husband called pedestrian. So back to the mines I went and wrote the second version above. Sometimes it’s worth having a husband with no filter.

At first my prose is perfect

I gasp with delight as I read

In love with my genius

Then I open my critical eye

See all the mistakes, typo’s and omissions

Slash goes the red pen

As I mark up my revisions

Back and forth from hardcopy

To electronic, reading, reading

and re-reading

The enthusiasm and love is gone

It all seems pedestrian and boring

Now I can’t see anything good

I’ve pulled it apart so many times

It seems there is no value there

Finally I’m sick of the damn thing

Can’t wait to get rid of it

Send it out into the world

And damn the consequences

With nervous stomach

I seal the envelope

Drop it into the mailbox

Get on with you damn wretch

I will know your value

When someone else reads it

From floor to ceiling, ceiling to floor

All I can see is your lovely door

I carefully fold and hang my clothes

And nevermore suffer woes

As I search here and there

Pulling apart my house everywhere

On castors gracefully you glide

And my secrets successfully you hide

Since you’ve come into my life

I’ve become a neat and proud housewife

You deserve a sonnet all of your own

Alas my talent in that form is unknown

So all I can write for you is this poem

My wardrobe, I love you!

***

Who says you need to write a love poem to a person. Okay, I think I’ve done enough rhyming nonsense poems for the hell of it. Tomorrow I’m moving on.

Vampire Diaries

Watching the Vampire Diaries every week

Fills me with glee and makes my heart weak

Damon, I love your strut and your cocky smile

But if I met you in real life I’d run a mile

Your bad boy vibe gives me a thrill

As I watch all the blood that you spill

But what I really enjoy the most

Is how you battle love’s lost ghost

The way you love Elena to bits

I can’t wait for the episode when she submits

Although it is Stefan that she should be with

This is a fantasy and a complete love myth

And in between episodes when I need my fix

I’ll flick over to youtube and get my kicks

***

I’m having fun with this poetry caper. It’s so freeing to write about whatever pops in my mind.

My repulsive friend
You manipulate my forest honey
And in this languid moment
Of gorgeous milk
And smooth sweet breast
I cry to the goddess

****
Today’s exercise has been to do fridge magnet poetry. I selected some random words and put them up on a whiteboard, see below:

Then I started joining up words and making combinations. This is what I ended up with:

If you can’t read the photo this is what it says:

Only death
Power your eternity
Whisper together
Essential language
Repulsive friend
Manipulate forest honey
Languid moment
Gorgeous milk
Smooth sweet breast
Though spring easy rose
Diamond petal flood
Cry goddess
Love watch
Next chocolate

Then I began playing around and making some mini poems and this is what I ended up with:

Poem I
Only in death
Do we power through
Eternity
And whisper together
Our essential language

Poem II
My repulsive friend
You manipulate my forest honey
And in this languid moment
Of gorgeous milk
And smooth sweet breast
I cry to the goddess

Poem III
I love to watch
You eat the next chocolate

Poem IV
Spring is an easy rose
Followed though
By a diamond petal flood

The words won’t come

Makes me feel so dumb

So I flick to the rhyming dictionary

And find that it rhymes with dysentery

I look for inspiration there

And find that I’m filled with fear

I thought I was doing well

But instead I mispell the word misspell

See I learnt something today

There are seven syllables in

Radioactive decay

###

So it’s day 19 of the Month of Poetry and I’ve managed to post a poem every day so far. Some days, like today, it’s not easy. Only twelve more days to go.