Beer bottles scattered
across dust covered tables,
a bitter scent of alcohol lingers
in the musty afternoon air,
sunlight pools across the floor
in a sea of gray light – cold,
everything is silent as they
all sleep off a night’s hangover.
Little hands tear open a package
of dry beef flavored Ramen,
pound it into little pieces before
dumping the flavor on top – eaten dry,
mama stumbled from her room
eyes heavy, words slurred,
she pats me on the head and says
‘I love you baby girl, you know that?’
then goes to watch afternoon dramas;
I eat my lunch of dry Ramen that hurts.
Sent outside to play I sit alone
with a couple pieces of broken chalk
I draw my dreams on black asphalt,
smiling faces and warm embraces,
words that aren’t so hollow and distant,
parents that tuck me in at night,
but as lines appear I only become more aware
that they are naught but empty dreams,
dreams like words my mother whispers
of love in my little ears when she feels like it.
Author notes
These are some of my earliest memories compiled into a poem. I don't know where my brother was at this time, usually he's with me. Dry Ramen isn't very good, the noodles are sharp and stick your gums and get stuck in teeth.
Shatter My Soul, Let My Heart Ache by Reaper-117
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A contest entry
- ANYTHING GOES!! PIF by Jade.Butterfly.
2000 points, ended April 23, 47 entries
Honorable mention
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700 points, ended May 7, 49 entries
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400 points, ended May 3, 8 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Shatter My Soul, Let My Heart Ache by Reaper-117.
1500 points, ended May 27, 106 entries
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900 points, ended August 2, 1025 entries
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What do you think?
Comments
1 - 19 of 19
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Dry ramen. What a powerful image. But I am imagining what could have happened if you had tried to cook it. This piece is really touching. It's interesting how your anger at your mother is only implied ("if she felt like it") and you just use descriptive detail to get the point across.
What an excellent write.
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Well penned!
Best wishes always...thanks for sharing...very heart felt write!
Sad...
Write on and on....
and
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♥ Beautiful ♥
I don't care what anyone below says, because I found this piece to be beautiful reguardless. Childhood is often a sad and hard thing for some to relate to, even if it be for just a small thing here or there. I know I feel the same pain when I read your poem and I think back to my own mother who did at one point care enough to get up and be active, and be that TV mom who got up early on saturdays to watch cartoons and make playdough with me. But now all she does is sit at her conputer in a sad depressed state watching Days of Our Lives.
I'm sure many can relate to this, sorry about my long rant about my own relation, but you really hit home. For I too grew up with making my own Ramen Noodles! And doing a very poor job of it indeed. You're poem was worded strongly, and I personally thought the ending was spectacular. Cuts off at just the soft enough touch to keep you thinking, without making you go into full angst mode which I'm doubing you really wanted. If you were well...erm..heh.
But! If you were going for holding the mind for just a few seconds as you reflect on just a small story of your childhood, but still saying so much! Then bravo! You did well. :]]
♥♥'d it epically. :]
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I don't think my mother was ever that way, if she was it was long before i am capable of remembering. It was a sort of 'everyone for themselves' enviroment that I grew up in. I don't mind your 'rambling' reflections, I like it when I make people think. I wasn't going for full out angst, I just wanted to touch people enough to get them to reflect but not to send them into a depressive spiral. I have a few poems taht do that. Thank you for the comment.
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Oh.. this piece holds so much pain. Very deep and I know the feeling of the dry noodles, they do hurt. I personally liked the use of Naught. I can relate to this very much and it hurts. I'm sorry for your pain, hope it has healed. Well done and thanks for entering.
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I must say the cruelty of my mind knows no bounds. I read this and first wanted to know why you didn't bother putting water on the Ramen noodles...then wanted to know why you said Roman instead of Ramen then finally realised how sad this poem actually was...poor kid.
Thanks for entering. -
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I didn't put water in it becaue I was five and couldn't reach the mircrowave or use the stove so I ate them dry. Ugh, because I can't spell... I'll fix that to Ramen... I even looked up the proper spelling in google while writing the poem and STILL spelt it wrong. Thank you for yet another wonderful comment. Oh, on the naught thing, I'll decide whether to change it later, I think it sounds okay there if I read it aloud. Right now I have two term papers and a paresentation due in the morning I need to get back to.
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There's a lot of good work here, but it's hidden amongst too much padding.
I like the first verse a lot. Unfortuntely the "dry beef flavoured roman" isn't global? I would change that to something we can all relate to. Also change some of the lines... the big thing is the last verse. It's weak, it needs a really big finish. I really don't like the use of the word "naught". Completely spoils the contemporary nature of the poem. An archiac word doesn't work in a modern poem. I really like the broken chalk/black alsphalt verse. Lovely.
Beer bottles scattered
across dust covered tables
a bitter scent of alcohol lingers
in the musty afternoon air
sunlight pools across the floor
in a sea of gray light
cold
everything is silent
Little hands tear open a package
of dry beef flavored roman,
pound it into little pieces before
eating it
dry
Mama stumbled from her room
eyes heavy, words slurred,
I love you baby girl
you know that?
Then goes to watch afternoon dramas
I eat my lunch
of dry roman
Sent outside to play I sit alone
with a couple of pieces of broken chalk
Drawing my dreams on black asphalt
smiling faces and warm embraces
But as the lines appear I ???????
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Naught is archaic? and spoils poems? I am sorry but I had to comment here. The use of such words shows a mastery of the English language; it doesn't spoil literary works. I might have agreed if you referenced something such as Liveries, Knichers, or some other word referring to an item of belief that no longer exists, but "naught" is still active in the language and relatively modern poets such as Hawthorneand Poe have used it.
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Thank you for your comments. Your words "relatively modern" underline my point. Contemporary means "right now". Poe is not contemporary and I don't know anyone who uses the word "naught" unless it's in a cliche. I gave a critique - perhaps you hadn't realised that's what the contest was about? It's up to the poet now whether they keep the poem the same or change it. I just gave my honest opinion.
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Thank you.
I'll look into changing the word naught, I hadn't even realized I'd used it. There's probably something else I can easily put it in place.
I used roman noodles in this poem because its an actal memory and that's what I was eating in the memory. I figured they were international, anyway. All they are are dry noodles that are in a square block, your supposed to boil them tell they soft, add the flavoring packet (in this case beef) and eat them. I was basically eating dry noodles with beef artifical flavoring poured over the top of them.
I'll also consider the ending, its meant to have a heavy feel to it, a vacant hollowness... the feeling that the memory brings back to me.
Thank you for the wonderful comment, I really appreciate it. -
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Ok, well you could just put "packet noodles" or something like that? Now you describe it I recognise them. But not as you describe them. Maybe keep it simple. But I understand that the memory is important to you so you should keep some reference in there. Concentrate on the last verse. It really can make this an excellent poem. The beginning is good, the middle is good... the ending needs to match it.
Well done! -
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I think "ramen noodles" (correctly spelled) are an excellent touch, more specific than "packet noodles" and I think lots of people can relate to them because they are cheap and filling. Many of us can imagine what they would taste like dry, and they are not a good source of nutrition for a child even when they are cooked.
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Oh my i could feel such sadness flowing from this.
makes me think back to when i was a kid and how things were for me. (wont go into details)
but you sure did bring back some memories oh dear ..
*tears start to flow*
good luck in contest, thank you entering -
This poem is so sad and it is a brilliant write. You use such vivid imagery, I could feel the pain and loneliness in this poem. Good luck in my contest
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My god,
this brings tears to my eyes. I can't beleive the emotion you strike with this poem, a poem that includes dried ramen, and sidewalk chalk.
I just don't know what to say other than, this was amazing, and I love it.
Great job, and if you don't win the contest this was put into, I will personaly give you however many points the gold trophy was to win, because this is amazing, and it truly deserves it.
Amazing job,
~Serenity
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Thank you for the comment. This was a hard one to write, some of my earlier memories are in this one. I tried to capture the absolute desolation of being a six-year-old (I think that's how old I was) left to there own in a world that just kept moving around them. I still can't stand roman noodles though. Thanks again.
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Ramen noodles from the bag suck.
Your very welcome, I will be reading more of your work soon.
Most likly I will want to favorite you
If you don't mind.
~Serenity -
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I don't mind, can always use more/a reader. I'll look at your poetry when i get back from class this afternoon.
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