04/2/13

Forgiveness by Falling Through Floorboards

Forgiveness

Falling through the floorboards
Of  the house on Cedar Lane
The one where no one loved you
Where abuse and violence reigned

Falling through the floorboards
I arrived in days gone by
And watched as no one loved you
Where you smothered silent cry

Falling through the floorboards
My own history I changed
As I showed them how to love you
True connections were arranged

Falling through the floorboards
To that place where you were young
I learned to fully love you
True forgiveness has begun

02/26/13

Childhood Neglect

The effects of childhood neglect…
Years ago I taught kindergarten. One memorable class had five children from a group home. At age five, their established patterns of interaction and behavior were so out of sync with the norm, they were considered un-adoptable. Tragedy.

Early childhood neglect and abuse
Created, fed, habits and patterns
Nightly assaults fueled by booze
Taught her to fear all that matters

When, at last, a redeemer appeared
Brought her into the light and to safety
Expecting all angst to be cleared
When not so, considered her crazy

Demanded she stop seeking refuge
Beneath sinks, in closets, up high
Assumed all she said, subterfuge
Became next foe instead of ally

How’s a girl supposed to win?

I chose this sing-songy form because child protective services and public education systems are often lock-step-follow-the-rules-fit-in-this-space institutions. These parameters rarely lead to the success of those with special or severe needs.

*Written for Verse First at Poets United ~ Patterns

02/15/13

Screaming in The Backyard

Your slap
Halted germinal scream
Likely
A very good thing
Without it
That scream
Might have sounded
Forever

It emerged
In the room
As he
Beat the one
Who dared
Call him out
Tell the truth
Name the beast

She would not cry
Refused with pride
Told him so
Fueled his fire
The belt, the blows rained down

So the scream erupted
From belly’s depths
Up, up!
Spewed forth with force
Hot, fast, fierce!
Uncontained
Unrestrained

I ran
Frightened
By own power, fury, sound
Ran
To the backyard
Screaming

You ran too.
“The neighbors will hear!”

Your slap
Halted germinal scream
Likely
A very good thing
Without it
That scream
Might have sounded
Forever

That slap
Taught
Me to conquer, claim, control
My power, fury, sound
Thank you

01/31/13

Shadow Eater

Izy shared this at The Garden:

“Award winning and critically acclaimed publisher Hamilton Cork has the ability to determine a book’s quality and potential simply by reading the first sentence of a manuscript.   Hamilton’s track record speaks for itself.   His press has published 37 of the last 42 titles to reach number one on the New York Times bestseller list.  In an ironic twist of fate, all of the first sentences which Hamilton fancied so much were removed from the final versions and have never seen the light of day.”

Izy then challenged us to give one of those lines the light of day in an original poem. Below, with the given line highlighted, is my effort.

I was just a child, a little one, when I learned lessons meant for girls, older
I was five years old when I knew to clench lips, disallow tongues from old men, bolder
I was six years old, a clever one, when I challenged suppos’d  hardships, sorrows
I was seven years old when I realized I had the ability to eat other people’s shadows
And in so doing, I increased my light. Denied the dark. Fought the good fight. And won.

01/17/13

Patent Leather Shoes

This is the second in a series of posts responding to Eric W. Storch’s Master Class.

Marian, over at runaway sentence, chose Emma Donoghue’s “Room“ for this week’s class. The first sentence is: Today I’m five.

Here is my contribution:

Patent Leather Shoes

Today I’m five.
I enter this plea:
Listen!
Listen to me!

patent leather shoes
found in his trunk
belong not
to my sister or me

however, their finding’s
a godsend, no doubt
perhaps now you’ll
finally hear, see

when I tell you
he uses his tongue
when we kiss
and puts cold hands
where they ought not be

when I say
I feel creepy
when he comes around
and I won’t show
what he wants to see

when I wonder aloud
“Why did he
have to be
related-
my dad’s daddy?”

Today I’m five.
Listen.
To me.