Today’s prompt for Intro to Poetry is journey. As an extra feature, include a simile.
Struggling…struggling… Maybe this will work. (By the way, this is not autobiographical.)
A Journey Damaged
The flight to the isle of St. Martin
was like a long ride in a carton
from FedEx delivery service
to a place that was making me nervous.
He left no room for discussion.
A different job? No, not an option.
He wanted prestige in his old age,
didn’t care that, to me, this cage
left me without any job choice,
destroyed any freedom and real voice
in this wicked old sham of a marriage
without a good car–or a carriage!
Two decades that I can remember
flew past as a leaf in September.
No choices to life are allowed me;
his close-minded stubbornness stymie
all chance at examining courses
of action, as though they were horses
at auction for “minimum bid” price.
A chance to discuss–it would be nice.
But discussion to him is a lecture
with no questions, but maybe conjecture.
The decision is his, in his thinking.
And I am too old to be sinking
into a life all alone now,
with no one to care or ask me how
I ever got into this marriage
with barely a car or a carriage
(he can’t drive!). I am his chauffeur .
But now I have made him my go-fer.
My mind once was keen and decisive.
Today it is fearful, submissive,
a state that my father would hate if
he knew, when he died, what I’d give
for freedom from shackles of my mind
that this man used to conquer my pride
and choices in life left to others.
If only I had any brothers
to help me regain my ambition–
to change my old fate and position
Of hating to be in this marriage
(without either car or damned carriage!).
For now my life’s journey is damaged.