Poetry by Lizz
He Did What He Did
The very first time that he did what he did,
To do what most insulted and oppressed me.
My spirit was squashed. My heart, extinguished.
The man that did what he did, who knew?
Before that first time, I loved him.
The second time that he did what he did,
I told him, "You won't hurt me. You can't do anything to hurt me."
How could I know? I thought he was hurting her.
Before that second time, I loved her.
The next time that he did what he did,
To him I once loved, to her I onced loved. Now I hate.
Because of this hate of them, now I hate me. Now I want to die.
Before that next time, I loved me.
The last time that he did what he did,
To him I said, "I hate you." To her I said, "I hate you."
To me I simply died. My body lived on, my spirit did die.
Before that last time, I lived.
Now that he doesn't do what he does,
And hasn't done what he's done,
Now my spirit is coming alive. It seems to be I wasn't dead.
Before that last thought, I lived.
Now that he can't do what he did,
Now my spirit reawakens. Now you see my heart was injured, yet it lives.
Now I have something.
Before that last emotion, I loved.
Death and Love
Here in my mind
life closes in
the world is not wide
space closes in
take from this moment
time closes in
Reflect on past time
moments open up
let my space grow
worlds open up
expand on my life
minds open up
I am the proud mother of three cats and we live happily (well, as happy as you can with cats) together in my nice house. I have been writing poetry off and on for several years and find it a way to relax.