I Fret Some
I fret some. I don’t fear. My mother fears.
She fears with phobic anxiety the certain death that comes
from a carelessly trod rusty nail, neglect of Echinacea,
lack of good mouth hygiene, or a deficiency of salad ingestion.
She fears nightfall monsters that encroach when the blinds are left un-drawn.
I fret “I can’t. I won’t. I don’t.
I shouldn’t. Couldn’t possibly. No thank you. Do go on without me.”
I fret internal intimidation, mental disclaimer; misdoubt, cold feet, timidity,
all self-imposed limitations to those goals to which I would aspire.
I fret poor intonation, the F-chord on guitar, signature keys.
I fret the loss of bohemian spontaneity
that would have me consulting my TO DO list
before gloriously saying yes to making love on a Tuesday afternoon.
Could it be that I would hesitate to write through chore time and supper dishes
less the carpet stay un-shampooed or the blinds remain un-dusted?
I fret allowing another time when I would
flinch, cringe, cower, shy, wilt, tremble, startle;
when I would unknowingly enable human frailty, addiction, and despair,
endure a healer’s curse of un-assuaged anguish and un-tempered torment,
and shame that I would quell the wish to shine, create, or to be seen.
I fret “alone”, even in times alone
because I wanted it that way and deemed it best;
dismayed at sleepless arthritic feet and hips that refuse to lie quiet,
at whispered midnight secrets reabsorbed,
and passion packed away in a lavender dream pillow.
I fret the manacles of manufactured duty,
the imprisonment of obligation, the captivity of habit.
I suspect betrayal of that ability to love enough to again allow betrayal,
keeping a contingency plan should happily and ever after not stay to tea.
My walls are thick with hand hewn stone and cultivated briar warrens.
I fret the loss of seeing that, living that, trusting that
my current life has love, blessings, faith; has adventure, laughter, play,
has lucky numbers of days containing only choices from my list of favorites.
I fret the inability to believe that failure may not, this time, occur,
or I may fail to appreciate enough that I have everything I’ve ever wanted.
.
Author notes
Written February 19th, 2006
What did you think
Comments
1 - 10 of 10
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Awww...good one.
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Best poem on this site.
I declare this to be the best poem I have read in our time. Intelligent insight...a thinker...masterful with words...a master with emotion. Thank you for the refreshing joy of this read!
~wolf~ -
I like it a lot! I like how you describe fretting and fear. Something about the way you write just amde it entertaining to read. Lovely job!
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Mariposa,
I think if you barred the first fret with your forefinger you would not get that dull "prrrrrrrummmp" sound that you sometimes get straight-up with an F-chord.lol
I liked this even better the fourth time I read it! Reading it again will be a "personal best" for me!
Just trying to be facetious young lady!
Darn nice, very darn nice!
John Johnson
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This is a really deep piece. I really enjoyed it. I loved the style and the rhythm. It had a great flow and a deep meaning behind it. I really liked the repetition and the continued phrases throughout this piece. Great write. - cgirl0410
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Excellent Write!
This is not about having the correct inflection on what is said here, it is not about presenting what you have written in any particular order, it is not about being in any way technical and all that goes with writing to form.... this is YOU, you have written your thoughts as they came to your mind, defying all convention! So you should! you are allowing another human being to see, feel, hear what you experience as you live your life from day to day. This is true, raw life as it is experienced... you have hit bulls eye with this one, right on target and I feel very priveleged to have been able to share it.
Excellent piece of writing, well done!
~Katie~
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Right On!
Ah! Here we fall into the old trap. How could anyone who has not been, who has not seen, who did not experience, could not know how just under the surface, how raw, how real, who have not gazed so intently into the mirror and watched it shatter in millions of jagged bits... how could they appreciate how right on this is?
But truth be Sis... you as the poet cannot expect them to nor is it their responsibility.
Hence... the old trap.
Love,
Brother John
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I thought it was grand.. don't fret about it.. okay? just kidding of course.. but the poem really is quite good. I really enjoyed reading it and getting a peek into your psyche!
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Have you been drinking? (smile) The presentation here with the brick wall and the plain order of the piece, makes it uninviting to read. Your style, in terms of your structure is different enough to warrant a more exciting presentation , I think, to be fully appreciated. play around with it a bit and see what happens.
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well... it was well thought out and written skillfully. Overall, good job. Also, the flow was a little disruptive and hard to follow. Perhaps making the poem's flow better would make it easier to read. I love that you have a wide vocabulary that adds to the poem's vigor. Overall, good job... keep writing!....M.T.B.
Edited on Feb 19, 11:08 p.m. because ''.
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