Somewhere along the way I found out
being called Spaz on the playground
only mocked misunderstanding,
not me.
Somewhere along the way I found
myself flawed and fertile
ready to be plucked
tattoed and fuck you’d.
Mess with me.
I dare ya.
Black veins ran cold
through my turquoise heart.
Now Spaz spins spider webs,
ensaring leeches
that feed on my heart.
One by one she wraps
threads of black on black
until they burn, heating
veins in this tumbled blue heart
that somewhere along the way discovered
twinkling eyes grow when love
sluices anger clean.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This poem is in response to a prompt at Tuesday Tryouts over at Margo Roby’s Wordgathering.
undercaws 
Wonderful, Brenda. Everything from playground to love, resonates with me. Bravo for the conscious enjambment! With me it’s often because I forget to punctuate! (joking)
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Enjambement works in at least two ways: either the poem flows so naturally that you don’t notice it; or you notice it because the poet points you in that direction (often used in formal poems such as sonnets, etc).
I think yours falls into the former category: I was so taken up by the words I didn’t notice the poetic tools you used to get here.
A wonderful poem.
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Brenda, from the start with the tormenting, and wall of defense that is built in order to protect ourselves. Right to the end where loving eyes melt the hardness, I love everything about this poem. The use of enjambment works perfectly here.
(I hope I read this correctly)
Pamela
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You did read it correctly Pamela, thank you. Thanks also for the encouragement regarding enjambment., I think enjambment is something we all do naturally, but with knowledge comes intention, and that can change our writing. Fun stuff, eh?
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There is no late, lady. You can post anytime you want.
I love the opening stanza and I can see how the line breaks [enjambment] work to help the reader understand how it is supposed to work. In the second stanza I like your play with alliteration and the sounds of the words working together. Love the blue being carried through to the third stanza. And then the punchline in the fourth stanza. Packs a punch too, this one.
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Thanks Margo. Yeah, the punchline can be a long time coming, some people never do get to it. It’s one of life’s “aha” moments, when you realize you really do get back what you give out.
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