Tiring Day Poem by Doris Cornago

Tiring Day

Rating: 5.0


My mind is like a stairway to the stars
It goes up and down when I need to climb
Or it can be like a ship floating to sea
Nowhere but still everywhere, I am there
But also here, working on tasks, boundless...

Sometimes my mind can hide behind a door
None can explore what I feel or think
But when a man's word touches me, water
Pours out, in trickles and then in streams
Unceasing, boundless, flowing without a care...

Sometimes my mind cuts me off, lost in space
Spaced out, tearfully angry and inconsolable
I can lash out with my mind and strike you
With a sharp spear conjured with my anger
I'll cut you in pieces and bring much pain...

Seeing you hurt, covered with oozing blood
Be repentant and wash you up with tears
Crooning a song, a lullaby, tuck you in
With soft hands, lightly pat your cheek
Give you rest for another long tiring day...

POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
This poem is both an apology and an alibi. Oftentimes, due to an overactive mind, we get into friction with people we love, those we should never hurt. A woman's character is most often that of a mother. Even when she is not the instigator of a quarrel, she will apologize and make up for hurts - imagined or not - of the beloved. It helps when this man assures her that he can never be hurt by her, or anything she says or does. The problem is, she takes this to be a challenge. Thus, the cycle repeats itself...
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Doris Cornago 09 January 2014

To him who says he is attracted by me, he should take this to be a warning. Only a philosopher can disentangle himself from my crazy changes of character - alternating between a virgin and a vixen.

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Doris Cornago 14 January 2014

Change of mind is a woman's privilege, won't you say so, David? It's quite a delight to have three daughters by which you can observe this personality pattern. Amazing is a fitting accolade. Thank you for appreciating this exercise in the use of my mind.

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Dave Walker 14 January 2014

A great poem, a woman's mind is an amazing thing that can change at the flip of a coin. I have three daughters so I see the changes quiet often.

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Doris Cornago 10 January 2014

What is a real man? Or a real woman? In my poems, I can be so real, but in actual world, I am a fake person who is so placid-looking. Dalliances are not my cup of tea, but I thrive on honesty, something I can measure up to. I will never gauge you by the fullness of what you are, but by the way your words touch me. So, are you rising to the challenge of a duel with words? Let us see if there is anything real about you. Or to be fair, about me. (What is happening? I hate repeating several versions of this message. Won't PoemHunter do anything about this glitch?)

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Doris Cornago 10 January 2014

Only a real man pleases me. Dalliances are not my cup of tea. Indeed, what is a 'real' man? I want honesty first of all. Let me see if you are honest, but this is not necessarily an evaluation of your gender, or the fullness of it. For whatever be your motivation, rise up to the challenge of just being an honest person.

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Lamont Palmer 10 January 2014

I like that baby. A nice exploration of the depth and feelings of women. Only a real man can rise to that challenge. -LP

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