Belong #DVersePoets #Quadrille

When it was good

he could trace his name

through freckles on her back.

Could see all the ways he belonged

in that bed,

with her,

in that house.

Until belong became belong to,

possession possessed

in that bed, in that house

by her.



    1. It’s easy to feel we have some sort of claim over the people we’re close to, the problem is when that feeling goes to far and we limit their lives. We should never belong to anyone but ourselves in reality.

  1. Oh….there is such a shift in that 8th line. It makes me fearful and portends such sadness. Your words and spacing make the shift almost visceral.

    1. Thank you Lillian. I’ve been going to more poetry nights and it’s been really good for my poetry. It reminds me not to get too stuck in my normal rhythms and try to shake things up a bit. Play with ideas.

    1. Thank you. I’ve been looking at some poets recently who talk about shifting the perspective of the poem part way through and it’s an interesting idea that I wanted to play around with.

  2. I like the direction you took in this quadrille, Carol, where the freckles took you. Possessive love, toxic love, abusive love, all come from the same family: hard to identify or recognise, and even harder to escape. I agree with Lill about the shift.

  3. Really nice new poetic frontiers for you. Jealousy, possessiveness (a lot of S’s) come from one partner’s insecurities; a damn shame. it can strangle relationships.

  4. I identify with this , i was in a controlling possesive relationship for a number of years, it took everything plus more i had to get out of it.
    Fantastic writing .

  5. Love can do that. Its good if realized and discussed and reasoned and managed.

    Happy Monday


  6. I love the shift in mood in this. It works really well – interesting how that addition of one tiny two-letter word can make such a difference to the meaning.

    Interesting to see you are going to more poetry nights. I’ve felt your writing has strengthened (even more) recently.

  7. succinct narrative of a love turned possession – though there is ambiguity too as to who is what to whom
    “he could trace his name
    through freckles on her back.”

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