Posted on by pattytacuri

Poetry: Dying Innocence

I wrote this is 2006 in for my creative writing class. I wrote thinking about my sexuality when I was a teenager. I was hypersexual from a young age.

me in 2006-around the time I wrote this poem

She was an adult like sixteen years old
Hormones racing like the speed of light
These were bitter enemies of the cold
Powerful sensations she had to fight
Had the body of a mature woman
But the maturity of one she lacked
But still she chose a stranger man
He told her quickly “Lie on your back.”
She was swiftly incapacitated
Gone forever, her norms and behavior
As her callow body palpitated
With her lengthy new found pleasure
And this was the unforeseen joyous end
Of her already dying innocence

Posted on by pattytacuri

Poetry: Did I Ask For Your Advice?

I wrote this poem is creative writing class in 2006. It’s some kind of form poetry but can’t remember what it is.

me around the time I wrote this poem

Did I ask for your advice?

Father and mother

You are not that wise

So I told a few lies

I didn’t mean to hurt her

Did I ask for your advice?

I had to break mine and her ties

Any words, please don’t offer

You are not that wise

I’m a man of twenty-five

Don’t treat me like a youngster

Did I ask for your advice?

Please don’t give me those eyes

And pretend to be higher

You are not that wise

Stop it with your sighs,

My dear mother and father

Did I ask for your advice?

You are not that wise!

Posted on by pattytacuri

Poetry: Despicable

I wrote this poem in 2006 for my creative writing class. Men in general inspired this poem. Lol.

truth be told

Despicable is the emptiness of talk

It is that which makes me  gawk

The realization of your words so thin

Give my heart a monumental sting

I should’ve put on my idiot proof smock

You should’ve stayed silent as a rock

Instead of whispering nothings to me on the dock

That’s when I should’ve stopped listening

Despicable is the emptiness of talk

Your mouth should’ve been padded with a lock

Then you wouldn’t have taken me on a walk

To your park full of crock

I got on your moronic swing

I shouldn’t have answered your knock

Despicable is the emptiness of talk

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Poetry: She Flew

I wrote this poem in 2006 when my mother-in-law passed away. She was an incredibly kind and lovely person.

She flew one afternoon without warning

leaving us in a state of grief and mourning

Why did she have to fly?

Was it really her time?

And now everyone left behind

Has rivers running from their eyes

Why did she have to fly?

Was it really her time?

Regrets and remorse

Has become our two worlds

Why did she have to fly ?

Was it really her time?

No fancy words could ever express

How it feels to lose your best

Why did she have to fly?

Was it really her time?