Poetic Fashion

I was feeling miserable one day as I am aught to do. I went on Facebook, of course, to share how miserable I was. I complained about my lack of companionship or in other words my lack of life.

I don’t leave the house often and this inspired me to compare myself to the great Emily Dickinson since she was a poet as I am. The difference I immediately saw was that she wore white and I wear black all the time.

I’ve been thinking since then about that comparison of poets and fashion. The relationship between poetry and fashion. What do you think of when you think of a poet? A cursory search on Google brought me to berets! I myself think of something like this:

 

Reminds me of Keats for some reason!

I started to think. How would I as a poet like to be seen? I like the thought of being a ‘witchy Emily Dickinson’. (I legit said this to my friend not an hour an hour ago). What does a witchy Emily Dickinson look like? Stevie Nicks!

 

stevie nicks poets style dress fashion

I even have my own color palette picked out. The base color is black (ofc!) but I want to accent it with grey, white, and red!

Vorgeben

 

  masks

I’m tired of being fucking reasonable
Of having to be calm, cool, collected
I want to be angry. I want to be mad.
I want to claim my birthright.
Hysteric.
It has been calling to me for the longest
Through the ages from mitochondrial eve
Adam probably called her a bitch too.

I’m tired of having to smile. I’m tired of saying sorry
for things I didn’t do. I’m tired of everything.
I’m angry and I’m not allowed to be.
I must be the voice of reason.
The fucking mediator. A role I’ve taken since birth
Between two witches and a boar.

Yours Truly

Is it black or blue?
This body that used to be
you
What am I going to do?
Here on the Earth without
you?
Your crooked smile.
Your witch’s laugh
You

It’s so cliche but that saying is true. I’ll be the first to admit that I wasn’t always the best granddaughter, but I now see that I loved the hell out of my grandmother. I didn’t see it back then, but I was taking the steps to resolve my issues a long time before she died because of my fears of hurting her. I told someone I don’t know why it took her getting sick to see that. But I guess you can’t see the forest for the trees.

Cruel Summer

Summer is the worse for exposing foes

like spring exposing the seeds

summer brings in the weeds of doom

the cycle continues

I never thought of myself as a superstitious person, but I’ve always been analytic. A few years ago I started to notice that every summer something bad would happen to me or my family.  I’ve got a running tally. The Cruel Summers as I call them began in 2009 about a year after we moved to the city. I’m hoping 2016 will break the cycle.