April Or A Woman Who Wanted To Be More Than She Was Poem by Daria Lebedeva

April
Or a woman who wanted to be more than she was

The careless joy borrowed from kids,
to screen from false pretensions
of adults badly played (Mr., Mrs. or Miss) .
To live in line with one-aim orientation.

Adulthood is not a skill or fetched
smiling, worrying and popularity,
or spreading rumours stretched,
but allowing a self-neutrality

to rest on her own dignity and
in a clean moral garment
for past deeds with no regret
for some sweets (swiftly eaten) .

She thought she gave tons of blood
(after act of violence like being beaten) ,
she is still hoping for a unit of energy, watt:
if not today, but tomorrow, the day is rewritten.

To electrify her hidden impulses
in motivation, an unfolding beat
to drink pure water with no premises
she suggests climbing high, she would...

All because of inborn acrophobia, poor neighborhood
Left her losing her mind, she's half-understood:
How and why do dreams coincide with the essence of life?
In her 20's,30's,40's she had steel nerves like a butcher's knife.

She was a woman of ambition, action, and strong will,
Practical, no need in a spiritual recharge, not a wheel on a mill
but self-boss, never put on a long and loose robe
to confuse own steps and face tasks not to cope.

After a couple of failures: no suitable partner or job to accommodate
she needed some days off, energy to accumulate,
and quickly to rise from self-remorse and to keep going
further and further not turning her head back (for it is annoying) .

Simply because her worrying mind ached the point
of getting in a coming bus, to be in time with sales and in joint
with all advertising rubbish. Above all she wanted to control time:
to skim the cream from every situation, sipping the lemonade with lime.

She adores herself approaching her 40's: not the wrinkles under her eyes,
and at the corners of her lips, no extra fat to disguise.
She summarises: I am still of charm that does not sleep.
I can offend, protect, and remain in memory under layers so deep.

A bite here and a bite there, a delicate bite from a creamy muffin
and a huge bite from a cheeseburger, leaving fingerprints on the screen,
to wash one dish, and to clean the floor with a mop: a cracked layout:
to switch on the washing machine, and to not take the clothes out.

She was fanatically indulged into the brainstorm:
to catch a tail of all flying opportunities, to lead a kingdom,
with trembling fingers, she types and sends CVs,
with a dominate idea of ‘' "to be on time with all her deeds."

The motto "to get hold of it, to snatch out faster"
then other idle onlookers (not own life masters) .
In her private life she was never deprived of male attention
as a response, she misused those caught in her detention.

She boasted her independence
in her financial and her planning schedule sense,
no official marriage-no obligations, one status "miss",
a self-breadwinner free of the need of ‘' "please, buy this"''.

She was emotionally driven and fallen into passion
because of her pretty blue eyes, she was chosen in addition
by her charming deep azure eyes; she and that
guy were looking at each other sunken into sweet sorbet

of the bursting passion, too large in form as horror.
She was his mirror, he was-her, but two mirrors
looking at each other was never useful for others.
The boosting egoism does not give birth to kids. Alas,

she selected the candidates for a grasping hook,
charming eyes, well-built body, sticky look,
white-teeth smile, sense of humor: all this charming poison.
Within years her criteria thinned: she was going to be chosen.

She said in her 60's: "there is no sloppy disheveled hair,
But just lumps of tousled hair in pair
(the state of not combining her is too rare) .
She accepted the night with no intimate care.

Though her hair is a mess aiming to find the solution,
the idea in mind, the salvation of hope
to avoid good-natured men and persecution
too often it happened, and it is still on the globe.

Old age is a time to catch the thin slippery away
matter, the ether, the catcher of the wind (not eager to stay) ,
as a little girl pulling her in front of the vortex airstream
who's not scared to submit to this force (unclear, unseen) .

Suddenly like an unexpected letter with news of higher rent
at her aging age, being accompanied by a loyal friend,
simpleton as schoolboy towards scholar, friendly as a dog,
being satisfied may be once in a life long

process, she saw a dream, clear and transparent as seen
that she as a little girl skipping here and there with a smile naïve and keen
on the questions of curious neighbors: ‘' "Whom are you going to be? " ‘'
'' "A teacher. But for that I need to read a lot my mum said. You'll see''.

In the beginning I will be a book reader"''. ‘' "A book reader? ‘'
‘'Yeah, and I need books as seeds to spread as a seeder
or to put them one on one in high tower. And as an alpinist
I will climb higher and higher to see the clear view at zenith.

But age is merciless to a girl's dream and to choose a husband as a friend (always right)
with the sincerest intentions of not running a wife into trouble to spoil their eyesight,
putting efforts into that what wastes a lifetime decided one sunny day or pitch-black night
to take the colours out from the rainbow tower one by one, and to switch off the light.

Exactly from the foundation that the fall was not escapable and the disappointment
was not postponed in the broken heart of a girl. New day's new life management.
Something, or someone, or her own hands deprived her from her dream realization.
She caught a thought: she was aiming to clean her hands in the dirty streams. Where is the source of purification?