Poetry

Unicorns

Are we just displays,

faces painted on with shimmering gloss

and sparkles in our eyes?

Given tinted glasses so we can’t see the cracks

spreading across our bodies

so we never have the opportunity to repair?

Our personalities never expansive enough

to fill more than a sentence,

a breath between speech,

a second of a cursory glance?

 

Or are we intelligent minds

housed in bodies we can love,

strong, supple and up to any task we try?

Views and motivations

and goals we strive for and achieve every day.

Emotional, yes, but also logical, calculating,

creative and inventive,

deserving of respect not just from the masses,

but ourselves too?

Poetry

Name games

Thanks, sweetheart. Thanks, angel. Thanks, love. Thanks, sugar. Thanks, pet. Thanks, darling. Thanks, treasure. Thanks, precious.

Words of endearment stream from people’s mouths so easily now,

I begin to wonder if they’ve lost their meaning.

Complete strangers calling me more names than my family,

my friends, even my spouse.

 

I never hear them call the boys ‘love’ or ‘darling’.

I wonder why that is.

I hear ‘mate’, if any at all.

Thanks, mate. Good job, mate. Nice to see you, mate. Well done, mate.

 

Sometimes, everyone seems to be a star.

But why?

We’re just doing what’s been asked of us, what we’ve been trained to do.

I suppose that’s it.

You’re just responding in a way you think you’re being asked, in the way you’ve been trained.

Where a boy cannot be a treasure, and a girl cannot be a mate.

You might not think that anymore,

but the words remain from when you did.