In my Creative Writing class, our first writing piece was to be a story told through three or more different poems. I chose to tell the story of a fictional character named Lois.
LOIS PHD.
Stern Stuff[1]
Lois
drove for excellence, amid a tough pedigree,
The
sixth of twelve children made her long to shine,
Be
it on mountain or field, or with a college degree.
The
women of her age were encouraged by society—
Rise
quietly, marry submissively, live invisibly, but
Lois
drove for excellence, amid a tough pedigree.
Her
father forgot to raise his middle child as a lady;
Lois
labored with her hands and sweat with her brothers,
Be
it on mountain or field, or with a college degree.
With
a fierce determination to either die or live free,
She
entered college, the playground of men, because
Lois
drove for excellence, amid a tough pedigree.
The
dozen siblings made standing out a difficulty,
The
disproportionate male campus made for hurdles,
Be
it on mountain or field, or with a college degree.
So
when Lois graduated from college, it wasn’t enough.
She
sought her master’s, then doctorate in Phys. Ed.—stern stuff.
Lois
drove for excellence, amid a tough pedigree,
Be
it on mountain or field, or with a college degree.
Surge of the Motherly
Urge[2]
When
visiting the farm in the ripe spring
Inside
did sing an aching
Desires
that sting ‘till breaking.
Successful
up until this mid-life stage,
She
felt off, caged by learnt lives,
While
pig, cow, sage grouse—all wives.
Not
Lois, not she—wise, learnt, and lonely.
She
felt homely, lost and plain,
Not
womanly—no true gain.
She
arose from a legacy of lots,
But
now have-nots do haunt her
Heart
where blank spots do saunter.
Her
hard-earned title—a feather-light crown,
When
not weighed down with hefty
Legacy’s
gown—she’s bereft.
Lois’s
start’ling revelation then,
From
farmyard pen, is that she
Wants
her own den—family.
The Fair Price to Pay[3]
Mud
contrasted sharply with Lois’s ring while
Bud
escorted her, like a lady, through the County Fair.
Thud
after thud from the band beat through the
Flood
of people working past the awkward pair.
One:
lanky, petite, and delicate, pale in the
Sun
that settled comfortably on his partner’s face;
Some
would not understand their connection unless
From
her circle, recognizing her biological race.
Strong
and fit, Dr. Lois, PhD., had waited for a
Long
time to have a family, and Bud was the best
Song
in a limited album, so they strolled amid the
Throng,
both quiet, thoughtful, at rest.
Then
some kids ran by, Lois’s loose ring flew to the
Pen
with pigs, dropping blithely into the black mud,
Ten
or more grimy swine looking expectantly up,
Men,
women, and animals alike staring down poor Bud.
Nodding
weakly at his betrothed, Bud gulped and moved,
Prodding
his legs over the fence, where he fragiley stepped.
Lauding
crowds goaded, while Lois watched him inch towards
Rotting
waste where the bright ring in thick mud was kept.
Try
as he might, Bud feinted and reached, giving a small
Cry,
yet the ring would not be got without stain.
Prying
eyes couldn’t get him closer, no matter
Why
the cause and Bud sighed and refrained.
Cooing
a chirp of noble and independent disgust
Stewing
inside of her, Lois leaped over the rickety fence,
Spewing
mud everywhere, especially on Bud, her hands
Renewing
acquaintance with the ring like common sense.
But
instead of placing the ring on her mud-caked finger,
What
Lois did was hand it to the bony-handed beau
Cutting
him with the remark, “I’d rather spend my life with a
Mutt
than a weakling,” and then she did go.
Cheated
from the possibility of raising her own family,
Beat
by time, circumstance, and her own resolute esprit,
See
it as stubborness or determination, Lois drove for excellence,
Be
it on mountain or field, or with a college degree.
