It wasn't that he hated. . .
he had no capacity
to love.
Love his mother?
Well, as much as was demanded
by a society who
accepted
plump blonds
in dotted Swiss house-dresses
with sweat stains
by noon.
Love his father?
That bastard screwed women and
kept their names in a baby-food jar.
Love his sister?
Gawd no, what an obscene thought.
But he did love his dog, Pogo.
Bristly little hunk of meat and bones
who washed himself in the front yard
whenever the Pastor came to call.
He longed to do
the same,
but just couldn't get
his head between
his legs.
In a list
A contest entry
- The Perks of Being A Wallflower. by heaven all alone.
650 points, ended December 21, 2008, 16 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Tell me what you think, but kindly, please.
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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This was brilliant. You really used the prompt poem as a tool to create something incredible. I really love this and I hope I will have the priviledge to see you in my future contests.
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Hood Wink!
Intriguing ~
This is interesting to read; I love the in depth peek at the character created - Great poem
♥
Stay safe
~Manda
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HOODWINKED !!!
Wow! This is a detailed character sketch that shoots from the hip. You cut right to the bone with this exposee. Well done my friend!
You have been Hoodwinked By your Poetic Bandit Family because WE CARE!
Brother Dennis 
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You are like Bukowski.
...That is something I quite like. Further comments later. -
We can teach dogs to play the piano and how to count, but the dog's best tricks we will never learn. Probably a good thing, for we'd be doing little else if we could. Thanks for creating and sharing and the best of luck in the contest. Take care, dear Wolf.
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Wonderful
Very well done. So very creative. Best of luck in the contest.
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Oh, wow... This is wonderful, and I think you've done the poem great justice. Good luck to you in the contest!
Laura
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