I grew up on the system.
I was raised nice and hard.
I dug and clawed for every inch,
while some were gifted yards.
There was no daddy, just my mom;
she was overwhelmed at best.
It seemed to be to merely breathe
put her nerves to the test.
See, though I never met my dad,
she claimed I was his twin
and, when the anger conquered her,
I paid good for his sins.
But with each strike I held the dream
that he would come someday.
I knew my dad would rescue me
and whisk me far away-
Away from bruises and bad names
where I’d be good enough,
for the first time in my life,
to deserve somebody’s love.
But my daddy never came
and slowly that dream died;
the girl became a teen who held
a bitterness inside.
I sought love in unhealthy ways
with men who’d treat me bad-
Abuse and abandonment
just like from mom and dad.
And I cry now as I’m writing this,
‘Cause there’s been no “rebirth”.
I’m still that girl just seeking love
I’ll never think I’m worth.
A contest entry
- Fatherless Day by lively banter.
500 points, ended June 18, 2008, 15 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
-
This brings tears to me also, just reading it. There are so many ways in which our parents tell us that we are not really worthy of being loved, and then enough life situations that seem to just confirm it. Here is some advice that I got once that really did help. My details are different than yours, but the story is the same. Ok, when you have memories pop up from your childhood, interject yourself as your adult self, into it. Have your adult self (as you are now) come in and rescue the child you. You can do anything you want to your abuser, blow them up, shoot them, or simply make them vanish, send them to prison, sentence them to a punishment of your own, but the point is that you walk away, carrying the child you, out of harm's way and into safety, reassuring her that they can't hurt you anymore. It sounds cheesy, but it did seem to help me a lot.
As far as the actually writing goes, I think its great! The rhyme is good, the rhythm is good, and it is written in a way that really lets the feeling behind it come through loud and clear. I think its great!!

-
-
Thanks!
Your comment meant a lot to me.
-
-
"You're just like your father" -- so human and so unfair.
Why do fathers leave like that, abdicationg their responsibilities and causing a lot of hurt?
-
Thank god. I see some wonderful rhyming poetry here. It moves well. The only stanza that felt off was the fifth stanza. Maybe you could make the movement there a little more like the rest. And your ending stanza was powerfully penned. I for one an not a rhyming poet, but I appreciate the form when it is done well. So I am always looking for poetry to read that hits my rhyming side. I think the first stanza is my favorite. I actually did not find stanza four cliché, although I do think the rhyme is overused. So yes. I really enjoyed this particular piece and am glad you entered it into our competition.
;
-
Nice job. I think this is one of the better rhyming poems in the contest. Most of your rhymes are less obvious, but you got some boring ones in here too, like bad/dad. I think the strongest stanza is the first, and the fourth was the weakest for me. The whisking bit is sort of cliché. I think the very last line in the poem sounds a little awkward. Maybe adding of before worth will smooth things up? Thank you for your entry, I enjoyed your poem.
-
-
I whole-heartedly agree with most of your points. I struggled to find a replacement for some of the rhymes and didn’t really feel the poem fully conveyed what that period of my life was like. For some reason when I write of childhood times I tend to slip into almost a child-like dialog. I guess it didn’t come through that that was the effect. As for the last line, it essentially was saying that I’m seeking love…but I’ll never feel worthy of it. Anyway, I thank you for your input and will consider revising as the spirit moves me (or when the words decide to bless me with their presence). However, cliché or not, the reality is that I really DID dream that my dad would “whisk me far away”…he’s lived in Mexico since I was an infant. I thought he would come kidnap me and take me there with him.
-
-
This poem is amazing. Good luck in your life.


1 - 7 of 7





