[stylist] the iceing on the cake

[The Crowd]

This was heart breaking, really.

Thank you for sharing.
Atty

----- Original Message ----- 
From: "Andi" <adrianne.dempsey at gmail.com>
To: "'Writer's Division Mailing List'" <stylist at nfbnet.org>
Sent: Wednesday, May 23, 2012 7:16 PM
Subject: [stylist] the iceing on the cake


>I have decided to submit a poem to the list.  When you read it please keep
> in mind I am normally a positive person but this poem was me venting. 
> Also
> the words spelt wrong are not wrong in the context of this poem, I mean 
> the
> words the way they are written.  Another thing to consider is the fact 
> that
> my poems are free flow, I do not know how to write and rewrite and revise
> poetry the way I do with stories.  I wish I could because I could save a 
> lot
> more of my poems but my poems always lose their creativity when I try to
> revise them.  So the only editing I do is spelling and punctuation
> placement.  I realize that this means my poems will always be amateur and
> rough but if I do it any other way I end up having to pitch it.  When I
> write stories I revise them over and over and over again but my poems just
> are.
> I will attach it and paste it in to the body of the email so everyone can
> read it however they want.
>
>
> The iceing on the cake
>
>
> He bakes a cake to fool us all,
> With sweet sugar to hide the bitter taste,
> With flower to soften the hard certainty,
> And candy pieces to distract from our missing parts.
> He measures, pours, and stirs,
> He mixes and folds,
> We don't even remember the poison that "spilled,"
> In to the batter
> is so smooth,
> And it smells so good.
> Yes he baked us a cake,
> He spoon-fed us a taste,
> Hear and Their,
> When we understood his plot,
> He'd let the sugar mask intentions,
> Let our eyes fill with joy,
> Let our minds wonder,
> Were we wrong?
> Does he care?
> Maybe we misjudged him again?
> Or maybe he changed.
> We would smile and wave,
> Play his little game,
> Make him look good while he assembled his cake.
> We peer through layers of deceit of desert,
> At ourselves in the glass and what do we see?
> We were just the ends to his means.
> We sort through our confection battered lives,
> For some shred of truth,
> Some bit of love,
> Some core of sincerity,
> Some,
> Some,
> Some anything,
> But we were all fools,
> Wanting to believe,
> That he might help us, or be their in a time of need,
> We wanted to think that he baked for us,
> But we make up the layers,
> Our shattered hearts and broken dreams,
> He crushed, ground, and sifted,
> But we didn't want to se.
> We stand looking at the cake and know what he did,
> We hope that we're wrong,
> We try to believe,
> Then he brings out the iceing,
> So cold and and detached,
> He spreads it on thick,
> He smiles and laughs,
> But we feel the chill,
> We take a step back,
> We know that it's over,
> What ever we had,
> He can't be trusted,
> He isn't our dad.
>


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