Odd Girl Out
I’m well aware that social niceties aren’t always in my repertoire
My pinky doesn’t crook just right when I sip red wine through a plastic straw
My language isn’t ladylike, and I’m far too fond of bawdy humor
And any talk of my good graces are seldom more than just a rumor
Polite company eschews my presence
Seems I’ve never learned my lessons
I can’t behave, cannot sublimate all the crazy ideas running willy nilly through this brain.
Everything lost; nothing to gain.
I wrote this whilst listening to Freebird in a funky downtown pizza shop.
Not an Option
By Leslie Noyes
Failure, under the spotlight, turned down a wrong road, dined at the bad trough, lessons learned.
Heartache, walked on the tightrope, fell into an abyss on the highway to hell. Seeking penance forevermore.
Trust, sought, but not earned, squandered in bushels, by deeds too heinous to tell. Forgiveness sought.
Grace, offered in buckets, washed in the blood of the everlasting lamb. Earnest prayers offered with hands raised in praise.
Disclaimer: I have the natural grace of a boulder.
Binge watching the series Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders: Making the Team might lead to delusions of grandeur, or a case of severe depression. I didn’t intend to binge watch, but after one episode I had grown fond of a couple of the rookie wannabes.
Before long I was standing in front of the television shaking my imaginary pompoms and tossing my hair to the music. I’m quite good when nobody’s watching.
Then I was sobbing uncontrollably when Melissa H. a small town girl from somewhere in Idaho, failed to make the team, and had to return to the Midwest, a victim of shattered dreams all because her kicks weren’t quite high enough.
Maybe it’s time to take my antidepressant.