Poetry

I'm taking a creative writing class this summer and these are a few poems I typed up for our homework assignment. The first is a from an assignment we did in class where we were suppossed to write up a "floor plan" of a special room or place. I chose my garden and kitchen and created a poem about it. The rest of the poems are about suffering from OCD and anxiety. I recently created a short fiction piece in creative writing about a girl with OCD,(The Devil In Disguise, listed below these poems) these are somewhat based off of that and real life fears. Enjoy! :)

Home
Tall sunflowers drooping towards the sun
facing the park, their leaves swaying in wind.
The birdhouse sits upon the ground, too tall for its intended place.
Bird seed scattered to and fro
weeds sprouting, to be cut very soon and precisely at that.

The brick path leading us home,
dug by hand, two summers ago.
The crooked tree, a menace to the cats
peering from the clean windows
at the birds that they long to, but will never catch.

Gardening supplies and the freshest herbs.
Knick knacks on glass and hanging from walls.
Step inside, the familiar scent of juniper and baking soda.
Spices upon a crooked rack, barely hanging from the wall.
A quaint but cluttered kitchen that will have to do for now.
Silly pictures of felines sitting in a pasta dish,
walls of green and vegan cookbooks.
You can tell that we thrift, often.
A fridge that's as bare as the feet that walk across the floor.
Strange containers of things that I have trouble explaining, like
S
P
I
R
U
LINA.

The Things I Fear (OCD)
Cracks in the sidewalk, a burning stove when no one’s home,
the cat getting out, pictures hanging crooked from the wall.
Sticky hands and exposed feet,
my vegan food coming into contact
with meat.
Losing control or having too much. Death, sickness,
and losing the ones I love.
Looking too anxious, or being harshly judged.
Being alone or never being good enough.
Rooms full of people, being trapped in a crowd.
Driving down the street with no way to slow down.

Failing brakes, a broken down car,
guns, snakes, still lit cigars,
The cat getting sick, or becoming lost,
mosquito bites,
losing my job.

Miscounting a step, not being precise,
the sound of cracking bones,
unsecured sharp knives.
Burgulars, rapists, or being robbed.
The house catching fire, hearing voices that don’t exist,
getting married and then divorced,
The Exorcist.

Hell and maybe heaven, if either even exist,
open caskets, funerals,
maggots on my corpse as I decompose,
being struck by lightning and public speaking,
manic episodes
spider bites
having a panic attack in the middle of the night.
Violent frenzies and consuming guilt,
burning to death, public toilets,
grabbing from the top of the pile,
because no matter what it is, it’s probably contaminated
s o m e h o w.

Growing old and getting arthritis, being stung by a bee, no longer knowing who I am,
getting alzheimers like grandpa and losing my mind, being strapped to a chair, getting a virus and dying.
Lathering lotion, I don’t like the way it feels.
Fleas, bed bugs, choking on my pills.
Drowning, swimming,
filthy pee filled lakes,
seaweed between my toes, tripping over rakes.
Doors not being shut, lids not being closed,
the house being dirty, the lights not being off.

The windows being streaked, the clothes being stained,
the food being expired, the alarm not going off.
Somehow being poisoned or becoming terminally ill,
Experiencing all the awful side effects listed on the bottle, from taking a pill.

The pets not being fed, the litter box not being cleaned,
Wait, stop! Was that a flea?
False alarm.

Going senile, or blind, or not being able to hear,
these things and many more are the things I fear.

Counting
School bell rings, walking, stopping.
Foot, step, meet pavement, 1,2,1,2, foot, step, miss crack, meet pavement.
1,2,1,2.
Counting, counting, worrying, why worry?
Precisely, precise, counting, precisely.
1,2,1,2,1… shit! A crack.
Turn back, start over, foot, step, meet pavement, 1,2,1,2, foot step, miss crack, meet pavement.
1,2,1,2.
Begin again, on and on, hundreds of times, until you arrive home from school,
Late again, never on time.

Green Eyed Monster
When I was younger Mommy told me it sounded like I had met the green eyed monster.
Completely unaware of my wild imagination, and the green eyes I’d seen in a ditch early on.
For the rest of my life I would struggle with this concept.
For I would become the green eyed monster, forever jealous, forever
A l o n e.

Many women would come and go, and earlier on, a few men as well.
Yet through the years, they all would tell,
The same old story, that same song and dance.
About the green eyed monster that had held them back.

Emotionally closed off, controlling, and afraid.
Fear of vulnerability, the fear of being played.
Consumed by jealousy, fear, and an overwhelming guilt.
That would implode on itself and destroy everything that had been built.

There were many different methods tried, many therapy sessions, lots of pills.
Lots of talks and lots of fighting, lots of making up, lots of tears,
but the sickness always came out winning, I would stand a tough contestant, worn from years and years.
Yet losing all the same, losing myself, and everything.
Everything that I had come to know.

The green eyed monster, I stand alone.

More Things I Fear (Isn’t it OCD afterall, that makes me need a complete listing?)

I thought that I was done, with the listing and the worrying,
But then my damn OCD crept up and all these thoughts started stirring.
I It decided that my list was not thorough enough,
And that if I didn’t make a new one, some sort of tragedy might pop up.

So here I am, listing yet again, the things I fear, with much chagrin.
Chagrin: A keen feeling of mental unease, as of annoyance or embarrassment, caused by failure, disappointment, or a disconcerting event: To mortify or cause discomfort.

I thought you might need a precise definition, to understand the word I used before.
There I go again, over-thinking, reading into things as a true obsessive compulsive disorder would.
Disorder.
I am a disorder.
To myself, to my girlfriend, to my family and friends, to the world.

Chagrin. Chagrin. Chagrin. Three times for good luck, but what I really wouldn’t give to tell this disorder to go Fu…

Black mold, drunken stupors, not being able to breathe,
Over boiled pasta, forgetting my inhaler , losing my car keys,
Not locking my doors, being a second too late, maybe somehow the dog and cat find a way to mate.
Oh for fuck sake.

Poison ivy, athlete’s foot, or any other strange type of rash, hives, getting cancer, breathing in toxic fumes or gas.
Forgetting to shut the windows, being blown away by wind, getting stuck in an elevator, tornado, or on a bridge.
Seeing an owl during the day, afterall they say it’s bad luck, there it goes again, OCD Go and fu…

I have to finish this list.

Not completing tasks, things not being just so,
crumbs on the furniture, and pet hair on my clothes,
falling or tripping and not being able to stand back up,
honking at the wrong person, messing up.

Being mugged, being shot, my car being stolen,
being drugged, being poisoned, being humiliated in public.
Sliding on black ice, being caught in the rain, being caught in the snow,
flying on planes, (never have to this day).

Forgetting to turn off the coffee pot, the dishwasher, the stove, oven, or iron.
Coming home and stripping down and a peeping Tom is at the window,
The whole place has surveillance, it’s been tapped, bugged, wired.
They ripped pages from my journal, and God only knows what will transpire.

Transpire: To give off, to come about, happen or occur.

There I go again, defining these stupid words.

Well anyways, these are more of the things I fear.
I can say this is the end, but I’m sure the list won’t end here.

To be continued….