When I was ten we drank rum
from a barrel behind an old bar
thick with dust.
We wondered where the dead go.
Father’s disgrace developed
in proportion to mothers violence.
His later in life child saw him through shadowy,
silent indictments, and a cycloptic stare.
At twelve, wearing my favorite mohair dress to the art room, I recoiled
from the stink of lacquer and burnt coal.
I shifted like a parade of paintbrushes with his blackened fingertips
on the pure white of my camisole.
.
Author notes
slush slush ty's
prompt:
the word separation
A contest entry
- Separation by Heart Sutra.
1300 points, ended February 1, 20 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Give ME EMOTION by Violent Glass.
700 points, ended January 29, 101 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 29 of 29
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love, love, love this. read this one like 3 times already. it is just THAT good.
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wild applause goes here
What a treat!
"... a parade of paint brushes ... "
The precise detail in this piece give it an authenticity that can't be denied. From top to bottom it is irresistable and for that, a little frightening.
off to read more of you
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this is poetry that needs to be read again and again. once (or twice) is just not enough.
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Truthfully, I disliked the fact that it ended. I was getting comfortable, thought it'd be a longie but instead it's just the two verses. That sucks. eh, good two verse, none-the-less. Though, I dislike you right now for making me get comfortable only to become uncomfortable afterward.
Okay, the feeling's gone.
-Nam
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Nice, really nice. Congrads on the silver.
Joe -
I hope
that the dark undertone I pick up is of my own mind's filter, but I fear it's written in.
This sets such a mood, a color even, in such a deceptively simple and concise way. Each stanza has undercurrents woven together with image, nuance, to encourage, dare the reader to another read, a deeper interpritation.
and cycloptic, what a word.
Damn, I wish I wrote this.
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Hey! congratulations to you too!
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I really like this. The depth of feeling you capture and present in such a subtle way is very moving. Like all memories there is a sense of distant immediacy -- a past event that lives on and has become part of personal identity.
Excellent.
Garrison
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Exceptionally well done.
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thank you
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much said in few words, dig it
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GG
This left me catatonic
Woke up smelling kerosene -
fingerprinted - mmmm, brings some kind of meaning i never considered before. nice piece of work here.
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excellent.
m
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I got behind on comments....
I always told my students to dress down for art class
I have a late in life child, the age you were when your dress was ruined...any advice?
Excellent poem Heidi
and forgive the art teachers blackened fingers, I've had those myself
unless this of course is an allegory
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Heidi,
One word-excellent.
Joe
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heidi...your writing is ... wow
i want to be you when i grow up.
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interesting view through the looking glass, the adult child of experience on one side and the white camisole innocence on the other. -- silverfish
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this is a "wow" poem for me...
very nice work Heidi
al
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This is one of yours that makes me think, 'a later in life child' one at the end of the line or even the middle child syndrome who seems to be ignored...parents who see it as a child who can cope on their own and therefore allow it to happen...the feeling i get isn't one of sadness though more one of annoyance that it couldn't be changed. C
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I love this. It was absolutely beautiful, yet very sad. I felt like Icould really relate to this. NOt to mention the description of "cycloptic eyes". I LOVED that so much.
this is gorgeous.
♣ Tegan
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This moved me. I could picture it. Loved the descriptions, the sounds and the essence of it all.
Beautifully sad.
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This was beautiful, really descriptive- I liked how you mentioned the "later in life child", because it seems like they miss out on the bests of parenting, because by then most parents have given up Only thing to mention is in the second to last line; blackened? Loved this.
Jeanette*~
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definitely separation...love the title Heidi
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I devoured this Heidi, a delicious piece that left an odd aftertaste. Great stuff hon.
All the best,
with much love, MJ.
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