This week's Sunday Morning Poet is PixieVic, an artist of unflinching and disarming honesty and one of our literary heroines (if we are allowed to use that word). Words, words, words. Deborah Alma aka The Emergency Poet said, "PixieVic's poems are suffused with honesty, bravery, warmth and colour. They are poems from a woman who has come through some stuff, still wears the scars, but is alive and kicking!" Here in Speaking in Typos is a woman alive and kicking but sometimes not finding quite the right words to say so. I am so constantly exhausted and this is so relatable, if you haven't been here yet, you're going there.
SPEAKING IN TYPOS
Getting older as a woman
Is an interesting adventure
And without a comprehensive guidebook
It is open to conjecture …
So as is my way, I intend
To share my own experience
To chaperone you tender things
Into a world, that is mysterious …
I am aging philosophically
As my boobs succumb to gravity
My hair is thin, bar on my chin
Where I now sport a stylish goatee!
I can’t remember anything
My mind has turned to mush
A foggy brain, is no one’s gain
But I’ll warm you up with my hot flush!
However
The thing that causes most distress
Are the words that used to flow
They vanish as quickly as they form
And I now speak in typos …
Imagine if you will, a simple
Conversation starter
“I like a continental breakfast …” my friend remarks,
And looks at me to answer …
My brain attempts to find the words
Calmly searching the blackhole
I reply in earnest “ Oh yeah me too
I love a breakfast casserole …”
Croissant was the elusive word
Just in case you’re wondering
But this is just one example
Of my persistent fumbling
There’s the garden hoover, a camping teapot
That whatsit thing that’s green
The before thing that’s not the thing before
That place where whatshisface has been ..
A flappy thing that lives in trees …
Yes that one was a bird
And when I want to say ceramic
It’s cardboard that is heard …
I’m getting very good at actions
As an attempt to help my brain
“You know the thing, that goes up & down …
When you’re standing in the rain …”
Umbrella that one was
You see it’s not at all selective
My conversation partners
Now need to be shrewd detectives
My wittering takes so long sometimes
That I eventually just give up
And ask for a goblet of coffee
Grateful when I’m handed a just cup
It’s undeniably frustrating
Although amusing I admit
I pine for those long lost days
When I conversed with style & wit
I assume one day, I will return
To a language more customary
But until that time
I beg you all
To not leave home
Without your ‘Victionary!’
© PixieVic
