Marilyn not only enjoyed reading poetry but wrote some of her own. Always fearful of harsh judgement, Marilyn only showed her poetry to a select few, including, Milton Greene, Carl Sandburg, & Norman Rosten.
Rosten wrote: She would often hand me a scrap of paper with something written on it & ask, ‘Do you think this is poetry? Keep it & let me know.’ Or she’d send a scribbled sheet in the mail asking for criticism. I would always encourage her. The poems were, in the best sense, those of an amateur; that is, they pretended to be nothing more than an outburst of feeling, with little or no knowledge of the craft. But the poet within her – & one existed – found a form for her purpose.”
[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column width=”1/3″][vc_column_text]O, Time
Be Kind
Help this weary being
To forget what is sad to remember
Loose my loneliness,
Ease my mind,
While you eat my flesh.
To the weeping willow
I stood beneath your limbs
and you flowered and finally clung to me
and when the wind struck….the earth
and sand–you clung to me.
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Life-
I am of both your directions
Existing more with the cold frost
Strong as a cobweb in the wind
Hanging downward the most
Somehow remaining
those beaded rays have the colours
I’ve seen in paintings-ah life
they have cheated you
thinner than a cobweb’s thread
sheerer than any-
but it did attach itself
and held fast in strong winds
and singed by the leaping hot fires
life-of which at singular times
I am both of your directions-
somehow I remain hanging downward
the most
as both of your directions pull me.
I left my home of green rough wood,
A blue velvet couch.
I dream till now
A shiny dark bush
Just left of the door.
Down the walk
Clickity clack
As my doll in her carriage
Went over the cracks-
“We’ll go far away.”
Help I feel life coming closer
When all I want to do is die.
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I’ve got a tear hanging over my beer that I can’t let go
It’s too bad
I feel sad
When I got all my life behind me.
If I had a little relief
From this grief
Then
I could find a drowning straw to hold on to.
It’s great to be alive.
They say I’m lucky to be alive
It’s hard to figure out –
When everything I feel –
Hurts.
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I could have loved you once
and even said it
But you went away,
When you came back it was too late
And love was a forgotten word.
Remember?
They taught my body
to squeeze grapes.
Warm wine pours out.
And once or twice,
a slick skin.
Norma Jeane by Claire Stevenson
Look this way, wear this dress, wear that hat,
When will they realize there’s so much more to me than that.
Strike a pose, light up the camera with your smile,
Stand like this, turn like that, gee, I’m going to be here a while!
While they fawn over me like some precious object or stone,
Making me feel like my makeup chair is my throne.
Queen of the beautiful’s, princess of the blondes,
I’m sure no royalty and I’ve known this all along.
But they see me as this iconic shining light,
While underneath I’m just a girl in desperate need of one early night!
Where I sleep to dream, and I’m still Norma Jeane,
Where I have more than one string to my bow,
Where I’m more than just Marilyn Monroe.
Because underneath it all I’m just a normal girl,
Who would love to spend her Saturday’s simply browsing through the mall,
Buying gifts for friends, or perhaps some clothes for Joe,
Just being a regular person, not Miss Monroe.
Oh how I miss the times I could go out all alone,
Or spend my free time just relaxing at home.
But under the spotlight is where I now am,
In front of the camera is the place I now stand,
Give me a smile, turn this way, flash some leg,
Five minutes for a coffee break is what I now beg.
Look this way, wear this dress, wear that hat,
When will they realize there’s so much more to Norma Jeane than that.
The Brilliant Light by Claire Stevenson
She was the brightest star, the most brilliant light,
But she burned out too soon on one fateful summer’s night.
With the grace of a goddess and the poise of a dove,
As soon as the world saw her, it fell in love.
Curly brown hair was replaced with silken blonde,
Norma Jeane turned into Marilyn Monroe, it didn’t take long.
Coiffed to perfection, poured into an exquisite dress,
The industry noticed her first and then so did the press.
Before long everyone knew her name, and everyone knew her fight,
They knew of her tireless efforts to see her name up in lights.
Hand prints at Grauman’s, front row seats at Sinatra’s show,
She was the ‘it’ girl, she was the one they all wanted to know.
Her presence lit up the room, no matter how late she arrived,
She was the luminous beauty from which the heart and soul of the party was derived.
A luminous flame that shone across the Hollywood hills,
Being in her presence gave the whole world chills.
Yet lost she wondered through the years, no one place remaining her home,
She was loved by the masses, but still she felt all alone.
But to the people of this world, she said she did belong,
Her true home is in our heats, and has been all along.
She will never die if we never forget her part,
And that was to touch the lives of each fan deeply, and curl up inside our hearts.
