Witch at the Senate’s Door Step

This is a new story I wrote venting my frustration at the government. The videos are a little long, but I hope you will take the time to watch them when you are able on my YouTube channel… silvaan ruth pottery and prose

Thank you

-Silvaan-

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Me reading my poetry

This is a series of 7 poems with a bonus story at the end, about how I used Loki to get better sex out of The Fifth. The fifth is in reference to my last and fifth boyfriend.

I had been consumed by this past relationship for a few months now. So much so, I had to stop all my writing, and other creative endeavors, to get this out of me and out of the way of everything else. So here is the youtube link to all of the videos. click the youtube bottom to get to all of them or click the 1/8 in the upper left corner.

thank you

-Silvaan Ruth-

Prose: Horrible Way to Die

When you realize your behavior

shows the abuser

You accept their abuse…

Is a horrible feeling

and a horrible

way to die.

By Silvaan Ruth

Help me create more: click the link below share and/or buy

http://www.redbubble.com/people/silvaanruthart

https://www.etsy.com/shop/SilvaanRuthPottery

My poetry Pages

Fairytales

http://wp.me/P50Gwi-hC

Chapbook: More Than What You See poems of dyslexia

http://wp.me/P50Gwi-1R

Love/Betrayal/Anything Else

http://wp.me/P50Gwi-uw

Thank you!

 

 

Poem: I Hope

I hope every time

you think of me.

You feel the lurch.

Guilt of what you did.

The truth we share

memory of your misdeeds.

You called me friend.

Now we are nothing at all

but memories.

By Silvaan Ruth

Help me create more: click the link below share and/or buy

http://www.redbubble.com/people/silvaanruthart

https://www.etsy.com/shop/SilvaanRuthPottery

My poetry Pages

Fairytales

http://wp.me/P50Gwi-hC

Chapbook: More Than What You See poems of dyslexia

http://wp.me/P50Gwi-1R

Love/Betrayal/Anything Else

http://wp.me/P50Gwi-uw

Thank you!

 

Poem From MTWYS: Fourth Grade Evaluation

postcard-2

Fourth Grade Evaluation

I remember bits and pieces of it.
The pattern she showed me,
I could not decipher then,
now has faded completely.

What I remember the most
was how my mother fished for
more of an answer than just,
“I am a ‘learning disability.’”
I remember how the woman answered

voice rushed as if, overheard,
she would be fired.
“Twenty years ago your daughter
would be severely dyslexic.”

Now I’m weirder than ever.
Now I’m a stupid girl with a fancy label.
I am in this world where I am weird,
created for the teasing of my peers.

I don’t want to be weird.
I want to be me, but
who am I at this desk
if not a weird dyslexic?
My mother however, told me when I asked,
“What does ‘dyslexic’
mean?”

“It means you have to be
really smart to be dyslexic.”
She said.

Sadly, the good things said
are often drowned out by the bad…

for I was a Learning Disability
to everyone who taught me.
“Hopeless”, they thought as they threw out
my test scores to make their
school look smarter.

Thrown into a room with two others
that knew no other label. Really,
just a learning disability?

Pulled out of class
to do work with the Special teacher…
Now I am special? Another way of saying
now I am a weird-stupid-learning-disability.

Another would tell my mother I was…”So severe”
that I would never learn to write or read.

Never amount to anything…
you stupid-weird-learning-disabled-
freak…is all I heard.

By Silvaan Ruth
Potsandpoetry

For more of these Poems click Here
Here

Chapbook: More Than What You See-Prologue: The Cherry Tree

Have you ever waded
through a vat of mud
knowing how hard it was
going to be to move,
or how deep you
would have to go?

I have. It gets thicker
and harder to push through.
It gets so thick it’s
nearly solid earth.

The sticks, rocks, and stones
scratch and penetrate as they grind
by your skin, as you heave each limb
forward pulling your torso with them.

Do you know what it feels
like to struggle against this force?
As you drown in its thick soil
you can’t talk or breathe.
You just keep going until-

your head breaks
the surface tension,
gasping for respiration.
at the base of the cherry tree,
your only ambition
before you, barren, save for
one cherry that you
can never imagine unless
ingested by your taste buds.

You look on
to see other cherry trees.
Vast is the distance between them.
You advance knowing what
it is to get there but
curious as to what you
will find and where,
or who, you’ll end up being.

By Silvaan Ruth
PotsandPoetry

What to read the rest for free, click on this

Chapbook: More Than What You See-Giving Notice

I would have given a notice of disability
to my last professor
in my college career
but I knew I wasn’t going to need it.

One day that professor
asked me to read a paragraph
to the class.
I sat there stalling for time before reading
trying to calm the nervous heat
that crawled up my neck.
(Maybe I should have given him the notice.)
I thought before I began.
I heard a voice reading with ease
slow, a little awkward,
but not stalling
until the word “abide”
and someone quickly
saved me. I thanked them
and kept going.

When I was done I waited
for the stares in my direction,
to feel the shame
and embarrassment
but none of it happened.
I used to agonize over those situations
analyzing what I did wrong
and how I could have done it all differently.
I didn’t do any of that.

-Silvaan Ruth-
PotsandPoetry

Want to see all of my poems? Click this link here
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/441082

To My Aquarius

“Why did you have to ask me that question?”
I asked before I held you tighter than ever as
I repeat through my sobbing that I,
don’t want to have this conversation.

I don’t want to say, that despite
the doubt eating away at my heart
I still love you with every fiber of my being.

I don’t want to add myself to the chain
of girls that have called
you friend instead of lover.

Because I want you to be my lover.
I want to love you and keep you
always to myself forever.

I am not leaving because you’re too sweet,
or too kind, or too good for me.
And you are certainly nothing
like my brother.
I want to keep you
for all of those reasons.

I am leaving because
there are things I want
that you can not give me.

I need to grow a maturity that I
feel this relationship
can not give me,
I want a man with a streak of SandM
and a sunnier disposition
and a passion
that only mine can tame.

I can’t stand the thought of what
you will do when I tell you,
nor do I want to see
Tears in your eyes and
me the reason for them.

You try to pull away and I hold you tighter.
For I don’t want this moment to end.
Because the second I let go.
Everything will change.

So, please stop asking me why I cry cause in
me is a wanting for it all to go away.
Just as much as I, don’t want to have
this conversation.

-SR-

Little poem: Second hand Guinness

What is Second hand Guinness?
It’s when you prefer the taste
On the lips
of the man
That just took a sip
Of his Guinness.

by Silvaan Ruth
PotsandPoetry

ThrowbackThursday :old poem- I Want Him

I want him to dig
his fingertips up
my inner thighs.
Until he meets the right spot,
rocking his fingers against it
with just the right tension. For

I want him to sweep
me off my feet
fighting, biting, and
giggling the whole way down.
Until tired of stalling,
I let him in,
gasping. For

I want him to explore
every crevice with a
reckless ambition.
Until screaming to the
twilighted heavens.
For all the right reasons,
losing all my senses. For

If he can consume me
body and soul
My want for him
Will devour him.
Every.
Single.
Night.

-Silvaan Ruth-
PotsndPoetry