The happy housewife

15 Comments

Tags:
  • Sadness
    • sk
    • Not on here often enough, but will try to do better....

    The happy housewife

    Nothing is as I planned in my wildest dreams
    Not even a shred of my earliest ambitions

    I grow older, the years fly past
    Each day I awake certain of one thing only
    The sameness of my life.
    The predictable, pathetic, nondescript carrying on of my existence.

    I can't lay my misery at your feet as much as I would love to;
    So I sit in a dark corner and glare at you
    I will drown you in your own guilt
    I will be so unhappy, you will throw yourself out of a window to escape my unhappiness
    I feel the me that was, slip through my fingertips
    I watch it go
    I forget who I am - who I wanted to be

    I will grieve for the me that I never became; The bright shining star that I brutally smothered in darkness, because it was just too damned hard to hang onto that torch which is faith.

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    countrypoet commented on The happy housewife

    11-20-2009

    Though we have all tasted the bitter pill of regret,we should not allow that to discourage us from continuing to try to achieve the life that we want.This poem is nicely worded and offers a good example of why we should never give up on our dreams for any reason. Our dreams and goals are what makes us feel alive.

    Michel commented on The happy housewife

    05-13-2009

    I am not a housewife, but I share your thoughts. Thanks for picking the words off the tip of my tounge!

    ELRey commented on The happy housewife

    04-15-2009

    So dark - a torrent of tar yet we might wriggle out of. I hope this is fantasy darkness - If not my heart cries.

    organicchick commented on The happy housewife

    04-08-2009

    You know most everyone feels they haven't achieved their ultimate goal in life.....all we can do is try. Don't give up trying!!!!!!!! Your'e never too old. Great writing!

    kenparme commented on The happy housewife

    04-05-2009

    Good poem it captures the grief of regret and makes it personal.

    A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    sk’s Poems (27)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    What price my heart? 12
    The old Ladies 21
    Secret Love 17
    country life 15
    Hawaiian Summer 17
    American Wife 18
    A Cowardly act (The suicide of a CFO) 14
    bad rhyme.... 17
    Letter to an angel 5
    Neuropathy 8
    Cyber Friends 6
    Accustomed to you 6
    I loved you once 11
    little tears 12
    The Incomplete pass 17
    bithday silliness 7
    Mama's table 9
    Shon and Gabriel 7
    Cowboy entre'e 8
    Autumn Memories 13
    You call me "Bitch" 42
    Kamalei 6
    The happy housewife 15
    To rest 13
    The draft 15
    A Mothers pain 13
    The blend 9