=Finale? <h4>i.</h4> My views and thoughts, Ideas and loves Have all spilt out in rhyme; When I'd been wrought (Off went the gloves!) For rhyming I'd set time. <h4>ii.</h4> No more rhymes will come to me — My rhyming spree may now be done; No more rhymes will come to me — My mind now draws a blank. I don't pen this ruefully, Although that month of rhymes was fun; I expect no sympathy, Since all my rhymings stank. <h4>iii.</h4> i rhymed all night, i rhymed all day, i rhymed the freaking month away. =<a href="./pnotes.html#severance">Severance</a> Sometimes I dream of divorce <blockquote><i>I'd wish to divorce myself</i>       From my family <dd>and all of the world</dd> <dd>people I love</dd> <dd>persons I hate</dd> <dd>Every one that might know my name</dd></blockquote> And <blockquote><i>Oh how I've longed for divorce</i>       From all of my cares <dd>most of my wants</dd> <dd>many of my fears</dd> <dd>some of my hopes</dd> <dd>And all my regrets and shame</dd></blockquote> =Derision The formality I most deplore Is "how are you (today)?" Not only does the question bore, But few even care what you say. The falsehoods that one usually hears Are "great," "okay," and "fine." Nobody ever bursts in tears, And cries, "Horrible, I'm dying!" Almost no one wants to hear the truth; They seek genial answers. This line only promotes untruth: On social discourse, it's but cancer. =Playground <h4>Swings: Mood Swings</h4> A frown, a smile, a frown, a smile; Thus passes my journey by the mile. One day I'm glad, another grim — Well, that's life when you live to your whims. <h4>Slide: Wondering</h4> I could now be drifting Into a reverie. Or, perhaps I'm falling,... What fate then awaits me? <h4>See-Saw: S&M</h4> — One I had not liked so much, And yet I'd thought I loved him; I believed I was <i>in love</i> with him, And proceeded on as such. The other I do like a lot; He's so caring and so warm. To adore him seemed the likely norm; His acquaintance I'll grieve not. =Whatever Whenever have I done a thing     but with conventions toy? Wherever could I really go     if this life I destroyed? Whatever have I done to feel     deserving of that boy? Whatever made me think that I     was worthy of life's joys? =Self-Examination <h4>i.</h4> I blinked and I turned twenty-nine When yesterday I'd been fifteen; By year's end, I'll be three decades old, The milestone that connotes maturity. Of my age I wear subtle signs: Worrisome lines can now be seen, Even when odd worries have no hold; I'm no longer immune to gravity. Women my age plan for children; Motherhood boasts a strong allure. Careers and families mean everything; In adulthood are they firmly installed. But me, I'm still gamely dawdling. That I don't want children, I'm sure; Such obligations seem repelling — The thought of being so entrapped has me galled. No, I don't yet know what I want, Nor do I want to now decide. Nothing remotely appeals to me; I never wanted any part of life. And though time's passing seems to taunt, Behind my musings I still hide. But I know I'll have to one day be Grown up, if no longer a listless wife. <h4>ii.</h4> Vanity I have aplenty At the grand old age of nine and twenty; And pride and pretense I have too — Though there's nothing useful that I can do. =<a href="./pnotes.html#whitebat">The White Bathtub</a> A month away and I'd returned To find a tub with mildew overrun All the stains that cleaning products claimed to dissolve Were congregating in that tub no-longer-white Disgusted I had scrubbed And cleaned til it was glossy white A shiny sparkling tub of white It once again became <blockquote>Surrounded by white walls Behind a drape of smooth translucid white In that bright bathroom not-quite-white</blockquote> Then I imagined it being overrun with red =The Vampire He could be seen by day and did not fear the sun, Nor did he recoil from fire or from prayers run; Neither holy water nor crosses could harm him — But as a vampire is how she'd remember him. He did not fly, nor did he turn to mist by night, And though in lust he bared his teeth, he did not bite. He was neither drawn to blood nor repelled by it; But he was a vampire — she could have sworn by it. For sustenance, he had no need of blood or veins When he'd had her heart and more impalpable gains. He fed off the torment he'd wreaked on her spirit; He'd oft hurt her and seemed to take pleasure in it. He'd loved carelessly though she loved him completely, And her pain seemed to increase his vitality; The more wretched she'd grown, the more splendid he'd seemed — While her eyes grew bloodshot, his had but brighter gleamed. He would wound her with actions, with looks and cruel taunts; Yet the colder he turned, the more her dreams he'd haunt. Her figure grew haggard, and her coloring ashen, While he maintained himself at the peak of fashion. Then came the fateful day when he drove her too far, And she'd downed the harsh contents of the poison jar... While he met his next love by her funeral pyre, Her lingering soul would ever bewail the vampire. =<a href="./pnotes.html#spellbound">Spellbound</a> — A dreamy gaze lit her face As she stood beside the window; A secret smile played on her lips... Her thoughts he wished to know. The girl'd appeared one winter's night, As if born out of the darkness; With his parents she'd found shelter, Yet she dwelled in silence. It had been an ominous night; He remembered that evening well. Crimson billows shrouded the sky; Snow forebodingly fell. And then, looking lost and shivering, This strange girl to their doorstep came; Her origins were a mystery: Nobody knew her name. The enigma had enthralled him; He watched her to learn what he could. Entranced within her reverie, He oft beside her stood. =<a href="./pnotes.html#penelope">Penelope</a> O, lord of mine, where have you gone? To the far ends of the earth? You promised me that you'd return, If I would keep warm our hearth. My promise I have kept thus far; For you I've heart'ly waited. It's been ten years but still I pray For what I know is fated. You'll come back as Ithaca's king; The oracles have said it. Though these scores of suitors dally, No one else have I bedded. And there you've come with your great bow! I knew you'd come to save me. Slay them all, yes, be rid of them, And once again, you'll have me. What rapture that you're here again, My darling, dearest lover. Do tell me all, where have you gone? Why was I made to suffer? Wait, slow down, I surely heard wrong — You lived on the isle of whom? Her you had loved? — And which others? And others still, I assume! And here I had waited and prayed Ten long years for your return! O, all that time I spent weaving... I hope in Hades you burn!