All it takes is one little word,
To crop up in conversation,
And suddenly my mother believes,
That she is a singing sensation.
But! She sings several octaves higher,
Than the artist of the song,
In a barely recognisable tune,
Plus, the lyrics are always wrong.
Well it didn’t take long at all
Before I would break into a song!
Luckily I know my lyrics,
So at least I don’t get those wrong.
Mother sings often,
Spirit as high as her key!
It is contagious.
In response to the fifteenth “bad habits” prompt from NaPoWriMo.net
Back when I was little,
Unworthy and insignificant,
I was a drained and lazy lizard,
With dreams, so magnificent.
My dreams of a eutopia,
Became so real and recurrent.
Though they brought little euphoria;
I was trapped by a sea serpent.
Old leather boots struck terror,
Deep within my shielded heart.
Potpourri reminded me of home,
When my world was torn apart.
My escape from him was easy,
Once I climbed over self-blame.
Now I don’t count every penny,
Nor lower my head in shame.
I’m making myself a life I love,
Where I won’t feel homesick.
I’m yellow with contentment,
Like the earthy turmeric.
In response to the Paint Chip Poetry Prompt Challenge #30 found here
A poem for anyone who is made to feel small, to give them hope for a brighter future.