Someone Else’s Crime

I will grow tomatoes
When you’ve set me free.
I will live at home in peace
Where all will let me be.

I will wake up cheerful
In the morning to the sun.
I will feel at peace at last,
Once my Freedom’s won.

I have been imprisoned here
For someone else’s crime.
I have lived my life in fear,
And I have done my time.

All I want, is to feel safe -
Relaxed and calm and free.
I have been good, to fellow men.
Why aren’t they good to me?

I try to keep my head up high,
Imagining the day
When I will be allowed to fly,
When I will go away,

And wrap myself in someone’s arms
Who knows me as I am.
I try to think about that day,
As hard as try I can …

I will wake up smiling,
In the morning sun.
I will kiss the one I love, and
Once this battle’s done …

I will grow tomatoes in
My garden in the grass,
And tie my hair behind my head …
And when this storm has passed,

I will sit up late at night
With cats and cups of tea,
I will live no more in fright
Once I have been set free.

I only want this misery
And fear and pain to end.
I only want a life at peace
Surrounded by my friends.

But that will be another day.
Today I must remain
Within the madness of this place
In fear, and hope, and pain.

But always, I hold up my head,
Imagining the day
When I will be allowed to go,
When I will fly away …

Not now. It isn’t over yet
I must sit out my time,
As I have done, for all these years,
For someone else’s crime.

- Written by Anna Vera Williams at Age 33

And you said you would come
Just as soon as you could,
That the moment should be
When the moment was good.

Well the moment has passed
And its passing today,
I’m not gonna last.
Not another two days.

So this is my ending
It hurts me to say.
I’m tired of pretending
That I’ll be okay.

I’d rather start over.
I’d rather start clean
Far from the droves of
Unending machines.

How can I live
If I stay or I go.
What I would give,
For a life I could hold.

Five years of torture,
The more good I do.
This isn’t living.
This shouldn’t be true.

No more “tomorrow.”
No more “two days.”
Damn it I’m dying here.
All I can say.

- Written by Anna V. Williams in March 2008
Probably the 15th

And my back wants to break,
My head wants to scream.
Let me awake
From this maddening dream.

The ramparts are shaking
The bricks want to fall
My spirit is breaking
I can’t hold them all …

Please don’t forsake me,
Please come and fight.
Please come and wake me
Deep in the night.

Tell me its over,
Sing me a song.
Its time to come home now,
It’s been much too long…

- Written by Anna Vera Williams at Age 33

And when her master wasn’t near,
She shook and trembled with her fear.
Her master came and chased away
The stupid thugs. And every day,
She felt okay, if he was there.
And when he wasn’t, she was scared.
One day the thugs were growing strong.
She had been good, she’d done no wrong;
Her master kept the thugs at bay
With one low growl, they ran away.
But that was when the phone call came.
He had to go. No one to blame.

The little pug, she shook and cried.
She said she wouldn’t stay alive.
The thugs were there, at her front door.
She couldn’t hold them anymore.
She knew that she would be alone.
She got some money for the phone.
She banged her head into the wall.
Her master said, “Well, you can call.”
She shook and cried into the chair …
It didn’t get her anywhere.
She prayed to god it was a dream.
But God was busy, so it seemed.

And that was when, with breaking glass,
Something, somewhere, came to pass.
Someone, somehow, cast a spell.
Against the laughing mites of hell.
And through the night time, something changed,
As if the stars had re-arranged.
And as she slept, we don’t know how,
Her little pout became a growl.

And when she woke she shook a bit …
Okay … she sobbed and had a fit.
But only when she was alone,
Hidden deep within her home.
But when she stepped out of her door,
She wasn’t crying anymore.
She looked the thugs straight in the eye.
She said, “So fight me. Please just try.”
I have had enough of it.
I care no more, oh not one bit.”
She breathed in deep to swell her ribs.
She put her hands onto her hips.
She stood on tip-toe when she spoke,
To not look up on taller folk.

She told the thugs to go to hell.
She told them she was doing well.
She grabbed her kids, said “lets go play.
Let’s fight these creeps some other day.”
Now many stories could be told,
Of how that puppy grew so bold,
Some stories haven’t happened yet
The war’s not over, don’t forget.
Our pug has yet to grow full-strong …
But … wait a minute, that was wrong.
The little pug has no more time
To waste her lifetime with this slime.
Our pug is pretty, cute and smart.
She won a merit for her art.
She did what no one else has done;
Went round the world when she was young.

She crossed alone the stony steppes,
When she was sick and nearly dead.
She can write and learn, and knows
She makes things better where she goes.
Her education rivals all.
These pugs are stupid, new, and small.
They bat their eyes with pimpled cheeks.
They spread their lies because they’re week.
Our pug has yet one crime alone.
She turned her real self into stone.
For she is not a pug at all.
She is a wolf who acts so small.

Now there’s our story, that was how
The yipping yap became a growl.
The little pug has far to go.
But now she sees and now she knows.

While witches laughed upon their thrones,
The Lion breathed upon the stone.

The story hasn’t ended here.
The ending isn’t even near.
This is the beginning now.
It will be turned around some how.
And many battles will be fought
But one day it will be forgot.
One day the wolf will calmly lie,
And glare at anyone who tries.
And one low growl will make them run.
And that will be a lot of fun.

But this is how it all began.
The pug who always ran and ran.
She turned around and smiled and said,
“I am myself, and don’t forget.
Now go away and let me be.
Because I want to have some tea.
And – oh, yeah, one thing, by the way,
Don’t come again until I say …”

Now that’s my story, that was how,
The little yelp became a growl.

The world was black, but on that day,
Our pug became a beast of prey.

Written by Anna Vera Williams
February 9, 2008

Dedicated to All Pugs

It doesn’t matter if I cry
You have to go away.

I can scream
For death and hell;
It doesn’t go away.

I can dream
That all is well.
It doesn’t make you stay.

Damn the world,
Your wife needs you too
Tell them to go away.

Damn the truth,
The world’s gonna die
If you don’t go away.

Written by Anna Vera Williams
- 8 February 2008

I’m breaking glass
Inside my head.

If I bang my head
Hard enough
And long enough
Into the wall,

If I throw enough jars
Around my room
And crash them into
Shards and hell,

Would you make
This be a dream.
Wake me up.

And then I’ll say
“I had a dream,
You had to go.”

And let me curl
And hold you.
Warm, protecting, safe, and strong.
“I had a dream but I was wrong.”

- Written by Anna V. Williams

Yield no whisper
Of remorse,
Give no sign
That you endorse

The fables of
The ancient wives,
Who kept their men
And lived their lives ..

The crossing bears
No one-way bar.
But shut your eyes,
And touch your scar,

Remember what
The madman said.
You just live once,
And then you’re dead,

And happiness
Is all a myth,
The road ahead
Is clouded with

Monstrosities
Who can’t be changed.
So label them.
They can be named.

The madman said
You can’t repair
Your love or life …
But you’re aware

Deep down below
The cloud of cries,
That life holds hope
That these are lies …

The choice is yours,
To live or burn,
To hear the lies
Or to return.

- Written by Anna Williams at age 32

This free poem is a Found Poem, written per the prompt at stoney moss: Found Poetry.

The item used to “find” this poem was the DMV Driver’s Manual.

P.S. No marriages were harmed in the making of this poem. I have no idea where I came up with the idea for the poem to be about a divorce. Maybe it was the DMV manual’s idea.

My heart feels calm,
My feelings clear;
The world seems simple,
When you’re near.

- Written by Anna Williams at age 32

I wish he would come home to me.
Its been a year, too long, you see.
I can not bear another day.
I wish he hadn’t gone away.

And when I cry, he can’t get mad,
Nor say I want him to feel bad.
Because he is so far away.
I wish he would come home and stay.

I wish that when I woke at night
And couldn’t sleep, he’d hold me tight.
And kiss me on my eyes and face.
And crush my bones with his embrace.

And calm my heart. And laugh away,
The torments of these insane ways,
That follow me wher’er I go.
I miss him and I love him so.

My poem is a corny rhyme
Because I have not so much time.
My stomach lurches, my hands shake
I wish I was too hard to break.

I wish I was like him, so calm.
Even when these things go wrong.
Happy, strong, and carefree too.
I say, “One day, I’ll be like you.”

Which day that is, I cannot see.
I want to feel alive and free.
And never sleep again alone.
I wish my husband would come home.

Written by Anna Vera Williams in Autumn 2007

My stomach twists, my heart feels weary pain
Forever I search reasons to refrain
From visiting the place where shadows lurk;
Where papers wait, to tear my mind from work …

I wonder what dark letters I may find
To torment me, and occupy my mind,
For days or weeks to come – but then again
I might just find a letter from a friend.

Perhaps it will be empty! Then I’d sigh
And know that, for one day more, I’ll survive.
Perhaps there will be something I should know …
I won’t find out, though. Not until I go.

When I was young, my life was free and clean.
My letters were so few and far between.
A postcard from a stranger I’d forgot,
A note about a magazine I bought …

But now those days are over. I remain
A prisoner of this dank unholy bane.
Some remedy there must be, to be had,
Before one day my mailbox drives me mad.

- Written by Anna Williams at age 32