Surge (Poem & Behind-The-Scenes)

Surge - Poem by Greta Stone

 

This poem was written from a daily prompt hosted by Tasty Poem on Twitter.  The title is the prompt word. This was my most popular poem for the second half of May. ❤ See more frequent posts on Twitter (text only) and Instagram (with graphics).

I curb you
advances
until a
tidal surge
of lust
engulfs me
and I indulge

~Greta Stone

 

Behind-The-Scenes

What comes to me right away is:

a tidal surge of love

Totally cliche but I plan to fix that.

[does something endearing]
[which leads to]
a tidal surge of love

Or what if I’m fighting love, putting up walls, and it overcomes me. I like that better.

[resist your advances]
until a
tidal surge of love
engulfs me

Love is really irritating me. Way TF too cliche. Lust? Meh, we’ll see. I use that a lot.

[resist your advances]
until a
tidal surge of lust
engulfs me

I do some thesaurus searching on resist which leads to curb.

I curb my
[feelings for you]
until a
tidal surge
of lust
engulfs me
[and I cave/indulge?]

Thesaurus: feelings attraction appeal advances. I’ve come full circle to my earlier word.

I curb your
advances
until a
tidal surge
of lust
engulfs me
and I indulge

Meh. It’ll do. I’m tired today.

Funny that you all loved it so much on Twitter. I ❤ my fans.

Tangled Hues of Red (Poem & Behind-The-Scenes)

Tangled Hues of Red - Poem by Greta Stone

 

This poem was written from a daily prompt hosted by MadVerse on Twitter.  The title is the prompt phrase. ❤ See more frequent posts on Twitter (text only) and Instagram (with graphics).

In my green
I haunt you
to paralyze
my blue.
When at last
you beg,
I come in
tangled
hues of red.

~Greta Stone

 

Behind-The-Scenes

Tangled hues of red immediately made me think of tangled sheets and red, swollen body parts. (Big surprise.) So I started with…

come in
tangled
hues of red

I knew that would be the closing because it packs punch. To open, I wanted contrast. The complement to red is green. The most obvious way to use green is to represent envy or jealousy.

In my green [jealousy]
I stalk you
[some other action]
and
come in
tangled
hues of red

I felt it needed a beat in between. Something else needed to happen between the stalk and the come. Plus I like odd numbers (as we’ve discussed) so I wanted a third color. Blue came to mind first, representing sadness and depression.

In my green [jealousy]
I stalk you
to chase away
my blue [sadness]
_________
and
come in
tangled
hues of red [passion]

Chase away… bleh. I did some searching for a better word. Paralyze went perfect with stalking. There still needed to be a beat before coming, unless I planned to rape the subject of the poem. haha

In my green [jealousy]
I stalk you
to paralyze
my blue [sadness]
until finally
you yield
and I
come in
tangled
hues of red [passion]

Finally throws off the rhythm. And yield is weak.

In my green [jealousy]
I haunt you
to paralyze
my blue. [sadness]
When at last
you beg,
I come in
tangled
hues of red. [passion]

Perfect. I love the accidental rhyming of you/blue and beg/red.

Liquid (Poem & Behind-The-Scenes)

 

Liquid - Poem by Greta Stone

This poem was written from a daily prompt hosted by Tasty Poem on Twitter.  The title is the prompt word. ❤ See more frequent posts on Twitter (text only) and Instagram (with graphics).

You pour
your liquid
heart in
my hands
and storm
when I
fail to
contain it.

~Greta Stone

 

Behind-The-Scenes

For some reason this popped into my head as soon as I read the prompt.

your liquid heart

When I think of liquid, I think of how it fills whatever shape of the container it’s in. A heart that molds to its surroundings could either be a good thing (stronger, more adaptable, harder to break) or a bad thing (constantly changing, unpredictable, following trends.) A lot of my poetry this year has been positive (mostly sex-positive but still positive haha.) It’s raining today. And will be for like a week. So I’m feeling the negative. Gonna go with it.

So I’m about to rip into this someone with a liquid heart. I have to figure out how I play into the scenario. Maybe I want the heart to mold to me and stay. Maybe I’m the caregiver/enabler for a friend or romantic interest who constantly changes their mind, loves unpredictably, and finds themselves without “a container.” Maybe it’s my own damn heart I can’t get control of. *ponders*

*still pondering*

Well, the first “maybe” is a bit cliche. So that one’s out. Actually, any of them could be cliche, depending on how I write them. I’m leaning toward the caregiver/enabler route because that is totally me. Pouring doesn’t really work here. Melting just came to me. A melting heart is a bit cliche too but I’m going to go with it and hope I can bring my own spin.

You pour
your liquid
heart in
my hands
and cry
when I
fail to
contain it.

…the hell did that come from? haha Kinda felt like I went in a different direction there but it literally just poured out of me like that. (See what I did there?)

I’m also pleased with the ambiguity of the relationship. You know how much I like ambiguity in poetry. ^_____^ 

The weak spot in the poem is cry. I want to find something better. I head over to the thesaurus. I come back with lament. But I’m not sure it’s strong enough. And I’m not sure whether I want that grievance aimed inward or at me. Lament is an inward anger, regret for personal action taken. I think I want the anger aimed at me. More like blame. I search the thesaurus for blame, accuse, scoff and land on scorn. Yes! That’s it.

You pour
your liquid
heart in
my hands
and scorn
when I
fail to
contain it.

I’m not sure if I want a me after scorn but I decide against it. Then a friend recommended storm and it really brought the whole thing together.

Hunger (Behind-The-Scenes)

Hunger a poem by Greta Stone

This poem was written from a daily prompt hosted by Tasty Poem on Twitter.  The title is the prompt word. ❤ See more frequent posts on Twitter (text only) and Instagram (with graphics).

I disintegrate
into the
sheets,
lids heavy,
head
spinning,
faint with
hunger
for you

~Greta Stone

 

Behind-The-Scenes

A fan requested a look inside my writing process. Others concurred. I thank you for your interest and present this stream of conscious look at how I wrote Hunger.

I started with:

faint with
hunger
for you

Then I went back to fill in actions that would demonstrate this concept.

I recline
lids heavy

I wanted something after that to segue into faint. To me, it was that dizzy feeling which works on a romantic level as much as a scientific level.

I recline
lids heavy
head dizzy
faint with
hunger
for you

I didn’t like dizzy and faint together. They were too similar. So I found a replacement for dizzy.

I recline
lids heavy
head
spinning
faint with
hunger
for you

Almost there. But I didn’t love recline. It was too precise and held little emotion. So I searched for a replacement. Disintegrate felt right. But just I disintegrate felt unfinished. So I added the sheets.

I disintegrate
into the
sheets,
lids heavy,
head
spinning,
faint with
hunger
for you

Inhale Exhale

Inhale Exhale - poem by Greta Stone

This poem was written from a daily prompt hosted by Tasty Poem on Twitter.  The title is the prompt word. I post my most popular poem for each half month here, two poems per month. ❤ See more frequent posts on Twitter (text only) and Instagram (with graphics).

In the quiet of the night
you hold me tight
in hushed need, natural
breath on my clavicle
hand on my hip, hunger ignites
inhale, exhale
two unite

~Greta Stone

 

Me and a Gun: Fiction & Sexual Abuse Discussion*

The fiction piece below contains triggers.
Skip to discussion if you’d like to chat.

me and a gun fiction sexual abuse discussion Greta Stone

Me and a Gun

[Flash fiction]

The cold metal barrel pressed to the back of my neck. Pinned to the hood of a stranger’s car at the back of the mall parking lot, I struggled to breathe. Snot smeared from my nose and tears made the skin at my temple stick to the aluminum surface beneath me. My hair lay sprawled and tangled over my face, masking the real world on the other side—the world in bitter, cold, November darkness. My most intimate parts bare to the night, I squeezed my eyes shut tight. See no evil. See. no. evil.

Pressure from the barrel let up, but I stayed put as the rip of his zipper warned me of what would come next. The back of his hand brushed my bare thigh as he freed himself. I winced. It was coming, and it was going to be horrifying.

Dissociate, my mind told me. So I tried.

Somewhere in the distance beyond the van blocking us from view, two women chatted, the thud of car doors, an engine starting. I focused on those details. I focused on anything but him, my heart pounding so fiercely it drummed a rapid rhythm in my ears.

The bright parking lot lights, the alarm button on my car remote, the key I had lodged against the palm of my hand were all futile against his skillful attack. I should have run when he stepped up with a smile, when I politely smiled back while my instincts called Danger!, when I told myself not to overreact, when I didn’t want to be labeled a bitch.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I caved to compassion and lent him my phone, carelessly surrendering my wrist. With one slick twist, he flipped my fate.

The barrel returned to my neck now, heavier, colder from the night air.

My shoulders ached, arms numb as the zip-tie on my wrists chafed the skin beneath. He used his hips to jam me against the car. At the icy collision of bare thigh to metal, I recoiled. The gun barrel dug deeper into the soft flesh at the base of my skull, scolding me. I held still, obeying its command.

A brush, a breeze, a hard button pressed to my soft flesh. My insides burned as he ripped through me. I opened my mouth to scream but bit the hair that fell in instead. I willed him away, praying for a savior, a miraculous rising of the sun, a heart attack…for him or me, didn’t matter.

My thoughts stuttered, running off far, far away then ripping back to the present with every thrust of his hips. I must survive this. But why? Was it worth surviving?

My mind grew tired of running so it stayed right there with his heavy panting, the clink of my hoodie zipper, and the eery silence beyond our horrid bubble until he released himself inside of me, leaving a stain only I would see. Forever.


Let’s Discuss

Why would I write something so dark and horrid? Three reasons.

  1. I am a sexual abuse victim. I have endured multiple sexual abuse situations. I choose not to be loud about it, but it is an important topic to me.
  2. I’ve lived with depression for as long as I can remember, and it wasn’t until I started channeling the darkness into writing that I could function well in everyday life.
  3. Society sends us mixed messages when it comes to personal safety. This is the point I want to discuss today.

ground rules

There are two sides to every incident and every incident could play out in one of two ways. Let’s use the example from the story above. First, I need to clarify a few things.

Although it’s not explicitly stated in the story above, we’re going to assume that the victim is female. Yes, all of it could happen in reverse or with same sex or with any kind of person that lives. But this is the scenario I relate to. So this is what I’m writing.

For the sake of simplification (because this is going to get kind of complicated), I’m going to name the man from the story Lucas and the woman  Olivia. (2016’s top two names, although different sources quote different names.)

Okay. Still with me?

the real question Cell phone

So, Lucas approaches Olivia, asking for help. “My car died and my wife has my phone.”  *points over shoulder toward mall* “May I borrow yours to call someone?”

Olivia can do one of two things:

  1. Help Lucas by lending him her phone.
  2. Deny help and get away as fast as possible.

What does society expect Olivia to do?

That’s a good question.

“Baby, you don’t go around accusing innocent people.” ~Jake Houseman, Dirty Dancing

two-faced

It all depends on how the incident turns out. If Lucas is not a criminal, society will praise Olivia for helping (“What a kind and giving person you are!”) and shun her for denying help (“Don’t be such a bitch.”) If Lucas is a criminal, society will shun Olivia for helping (“Are you stupid? What were you thinking? You were asking for it.”) and praise her for running (“That was some quick thinking on your part. Saved your life!”)

Don't judge a person by appearanceThe problem is, Olivia  has no way of knowing if Lucas is a criminal or not when he approaches. The best attackers make themselves appear safe and non-threatening. And often the people who look tough and “criminal” are soft-hearted romantics. (Notice I said often, not always.)

So if Olivia doesn’t know what Lucas is, how should she respond?

The answer is, any fucking way she wants to in order to feel safe.

hold that thought

In the moment, there is no time to worry about what others will think of you or say about you. You must act on instinct. If something doesn’t feel right, don’t ignore it. And this applies to the long-term manipulations too. If something doesn’t feel right, don’t ignore it.

It’s that exact hesitation your attacker needs to make their move. With random acts of violence, it’s the pause before handing over the phone. Your attacker knows what society expects of you. He knows you don’t want to be labeled a bitch. He relies on that fact to trap you.

In long-term manipulations, it’s the pause while you recollect all the good things you know about the attacker that seem to disagree with that icky feeling you have that something just isn’t right. Again, he knows. He’s relying on the surety that you will not quickly dismiss all the good things you know about him. In fact, he has most-likely groomed you right into this position. (Read more about grooming here.)

don’t judge meSexual assault discussion

What it all comes down to is that so many attacks and incidents could be avoided if we didn’t stop to consider “What will people think of me if I falsely accuse him/make it clear I don’t like what he’s doing?”

Stop doing that. Personal safety first. No matter what.

And society, for your part, stop judging others period. Just stop.

Your turn

I would love to hear your thoughts on this. Have you experienced The Pause before? How did it turn out for you? What did others have to say about it? How do you feel about societal standards and how they play into sexual assault?

Talk to me.


All images in article are from free royalty free website pixabay.com.