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The Other Woman

20 Apr

Gothic Woman in Mourning

Solemn looks amid the crowd
My sorrow begs to weep out loud
Conceal my love inside myself
A mere possession on a shelf
Closely guarded the ache I feel
Deeply conscious my heart won’t heal
Clandestine relations behind closed doors
have brought me to this pain I’m sure
It’s true you’re gone and I pretend
To be another mourning friend
With she, the core of this parade
I stand lost soul in her charade
The grieving widow so poised and pleased
Her need for pity at last appeased
Accepts condolence from foe and friend
I’ve performed my part well to the end

© Susan Barton 2013



20 Apr

Woman Breastfeeding

How can the objects of such desire, worship and admiration
be mere means of sustenance and nourishment?
Big or small, they are forever in our faces.
We build them up with pockets of fluid.
Or reduce them with knives and needles.
They perk and bounce.
They droop and sway.
We celebrate them and parade them with pride when we’re young.
Then curse them for their lack of youthfulness when we’re old.
We truss them up like turkeys to contain and restrain them.
And add bulky padding to deceive the eyes of strangers.
If we’re fortunate and attentive they remain healthy.
But sometimes they fall sick and need healing.
And, sadly, we sometimes lose them.
Then we march with our sisters in their memory.
How men salivate at the mere site of these lovely mounds of flesh!
Perhaps because they miss their mothers,
or have oral fixations needing to be soothed and pacified.
Pacifiers indeed! They do placate both young and old into silence.
Spread out for all to see at the center of magazines which are then
spread out in the laps of young boys who desire release.
Plastered in all their glory on internet pages.
Did God know what he was creating when he designed these vessels of food?
Not necessary for procreation, but serve as such in a roundabout way all the same.
Because I AM a woman I HAVE breasts, but I AM NOT my breasts. I am more.
How important we are as women to have the ability
to feed the eyes and mouths of the world.

© Susan Barton 2013

Loving Someone Who Used to Love You

20 Apr

Sad Bride

If we could trade places

for just one day, one hour, one minute,

my pain, I’d gladly give you.

The hollow void you left behind

would then be achingly suffered

by you night and day.

My life would be as peaceful

as the expression on your face

when last we spoke.

How true, what they say,

the saddest thing is to love someone

who used to love you.

© Susan Barton 2013


20 Apr

The Day AfterLast night he looked beautiful

Lying in the moonlight

Today he looks ugly

I let my lust get the best of me

The jello shots didn’t help either

I can’t wait to get rid of him

But he looks like he’s

made himself comfortable

Remote gripped in his hand

Feet propped up on my coffee table

I didn’t realize how big

his nose was

Damned bar lighting!

Last night she looked so sexy

Sprawled across the bed

But she’s not so hot in the daytime

Her boobs are kinda small

And she’s got some cottage cheese fat

On her chubby butt

That’s the last time I get wasted

And go home with some random chick

At least she has a big screen TV

I can still catch the game

© Susan Barton 2013

Women Rise Up!

20 Apr

Women's Suffrage

Okay sister, listen up.
I’ll only say this once.
If every woman were to lay down
and give up
where would we be?
No right to vote.
No right to choose.
No rights at all.
I know your life’s been harsh.
You’ve been beat down.
I’ve been there too.
Rise up and be angry.
Challenge every unkind word,
slap and blow suffered at the hands of man.
For every unjust act.
Fight back.
Put down the diet pills, padded bras,
wrinkle creams,
and be you.
Not some distorted view
of someone who
has no clue
of what you’ve been through.
Challenge your mothers, sisters,
and most importantly your daughters
to stand up and be heard.
If not for you, then for them.
So that someday things might be better,
easier, safer, unbiased
and equal.

© Susan Barton 2013

Copper Kettles and Conversation

20 Apr

Elderly Woman - Sepia

Fingers bent, misshapen, sore

She drinks her tea, stares at the floor

Thoughts wandering, she brings to mind

of happy days she left behind

Of friends and family who have past

All the memories she’s amassed

Days go by without a soul

She knows how old age takes its toll

A long, sad sigh escapes her lips

How she yearns for new friendships

For copper kettles and conversations would she give

the last few days she’s got to live

© Susan Barton 2013

Murder or Suicide

20 Apr

Woman with Black Rose

You may be surprised to know

that when you sleep

I press my head to your chest

To be assured you have a heart

How can you say you love me,

but hurt me to my core?

True, your blows are invisible

My spirit is what’s black and blue

I blame myself

I consented to this crime called murder

And I’ve given you permission

To prolong my death

The time has come

To save myself

And walk away

From my own suicide

© Susan Barton 2013

A Mother’s Dream

20 Apr

Toddler Walking Ahead

I dreamed you were a boy again
I held you close and tight
You clung to me like long ago
Eyes innocent and bright
Then toddling not too far ahead
I watched your every stride
Giggles drifted through the air
My heart so full of pride
But then the dream was over
Reality once more
The man who stands before me
Is marching off to war
Against my better judgment
I’m sad this choice you’ve made
I pray the Lord protects you
May angels come to your aid
So now I must let go and
I’ll trust you’ll be alright
I’ll close my eyes and hope that
I dream that dream tonight

© Susan Barton

The Me Without the You

20 Apr

Fantasy Girl with Wings

You told me that you loved me
Now I know you lied
Did you really think I’d wither?
Curl up? Wish I’d died?
How sad to be so broken
To lie to one so true
You have no clue what love is
Deception’s what you do
I won’t spend time obsessing
the you without the me
Your web of lies aren’t binding
I’m glad to be set free
One day you’ll fall in love with
someone you’ll think is real
But she won’t love you back
Won’t share the way you feel
You’ll be the one that’s lied to
You’ll know how much it stings
But I’ll be on to other,
Bigger, better things

© Susan Barton


20 Apr

I Don't Give a Damn

I promise I’m no longer bitter, but I wanted to share something written when I was (perhaps it’s obvious?)


How dare you call yourself human?

You are a parasite.

You live and feed off your victims, contributing nothing in return.

You are a bottom feeder.

You lurk in the depths of hell and feed off the hopes, dreams and naiveté of the innocent and the sinless.

You continue to pick at the bones when the flesh is long gone then run off with the carcass so there is nothing left to bury.

You’ve fooled many. I among them.

You morph effortlessly so no one catches on.

But when you’ve made your final transition, it’s far too late to avoid the inevitable death of another soul.

© Susan Barton 2013

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