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Childhood Darkness (2 poems)

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posted on May, 10 2009 @ 03:11 PM
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My first post in the writers forum. (and it kinda makes me anxious, lol)
I've been writing poetry since 2003, most people describe it as 'dark', but then again I only write when I reach a certain emotional depth, for me writing is a way of dealing with the downside of life. Just so you know where I'm coming from


These first two are from my "childhood darkness" serie...



Memory of a Madman

When he looked at me he saw one of four he loved.
Convinced that he had never hurt us,
telling himself that we had all we needed,
all we ever wanted.
Thinking he was there for us all,
doing all the right things a father should.
Never once questioning
the hell he brought home every day.
Not knowing that the harsh words he spoke
would stay with us for years to come,
The things he did, burned
in a nightmare-memory of childhood.
He used to call me his 'little sweetheart',
with a death-mans voice and meaningless words,
while the licker smell filled the room,
with an unbearable tense.
But I, glad that he was home...
I knew, that when my mothers eyes
started to gloom and fear had overcome her,
It was passed my bedtime and she tucked us in
quickly,with trembling hands.
Telling us not to worry,
leaving us with only the sounds of a madman
taking away the vision of what hell was about to release.
And then the nights, always the same.
A clicking of the backdoor,
when she locked out the dogs
so they couldn't get hurt again,
The kitchen noises
when she made him midnight dinner
knowing in front he wouldn't like it,
the breaking of the plates and glasses
when they finally hit the ceiling...
His Yelling,
when he told her she was worthless,
his swearing when he hit a wall.
The dogs barking in the backyard,
and every now and then
the cops ringing our doorbell.
But the most deafening noise of all:
Her unbearable silence



Daddy Dear

Daddy-dear, it should be told,
how strong she fought and won,
the scars still left upon her soul,
reminds of what you've done.
The hurt, the pain, the guilt, the blame,
you never saw the treasure...
Love, affection, care and protection,
and you could never measure.
How much she did for all of us,
how much she cried alone,
and all she ever got returned were dreams of air, far blown.
You wrecked her heart, stole hope and trust,
owned her pride and teared apart...
tortured her soul, would you not say,
she paid a priceless toll?
Yet she forgave and loved again,
saw you as her soul-mate man,
believed that you had changed in time,
denied you'd ever done the crime...
And those who'd known did nothing,
knowing she would get scarred....
let her have forever, what she so dearly guards
How strange the ways of loneliness,
how much she wants you to posses,
her love her care, her dreams...
Puts up a show, goes with your flow,
with you into extremes.
Were does it stop dear Daddy-dear, when will you pull the line?
What does it take to make you see your running out of time!
Do you want her to give up? Would that satisfy your mind?
You know that's what she longs for now,
did thirst make you go blind!?
I now by now you've seen the signs
You heard the silent cries...
So Daddy-dear,
do you yet know were you will pull the line?
What does it take do make you see
your running out of time?




posted on May, 11 2009 @ 06:23 AM
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I have been writing poetry for years now, and I can relate to what you have said about only writing from a certain emotional depth. If you were to take my poetry at face value, you would assume I was an extremely negative or depressing person to be around. Hopefully I'm not...And with that the only qualification I might aspire to with poetry:

Memory of a Madman had more of an emotional impact on me, I think in part because it was more a first person relating. Although Daddy-dear had the same theme, it was more a distanced telling.

Memory of a Madman had a tale to it - initially I wasn't quite sure what the hurt was, "convinced that he had never hurt us". But as I kept reading it unveils subtly with, "harsh words he spoke" and revealing in "licker smell". I'm not sure if you intentionally meant to mis-spell liquor, but I definitely prefer it licker - as I had to think about it more than just the moment it took to read it.
As soon as I did the momentary translation, to liquor and then reread it, it arrested my attention and made more of an impact. My heart goes out to the scared and hurting children it portrays.

Daddy-dear I thought was a good poem. I liked the title, although thought it had a certain irony about it, considering the focus was on the Mother. Which in turn I think encourages more of a sarcasm to the "dear" part of Daddy. A few spelling mistakes at the end - I am no master of spelling myself, so errors don't bother me overmuch.

Hope my thoughts were helpful.



posted on May, 11 2009 @ 06:48 AM
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reply to post by azurecara
 


I'm sure your not a depressing person, at least that's not the impression I got from reading your poetry


Daddy-dear indeed has a touch of sarcasm in it. The poem is about how my father inmpacted my mother's life and the several suicide attempts she made.

memory of a madman is about alcoholism. You are one of the few that notice the liquor (licker) misspelling.
In the first version of the poem I did intent it to be liquor but mis spelled it. A dear friend of mine who lives in the US used to re-read my work and do a spell check, he noticed the mistake. Back then I was a member of a poetry community, we had so many laughs about the licker-error that I desided to keep it. The 5 years after that, no one ever noticed..

As for the spelling, my native language is not English so I tend to make a lot of "typo's". Especially in forums that don't have a build in spelling checker....My older work "should" be error-free,
but every now and then one slipped through the mazes of the net


thanks for your comments



posted on May, 25 2009 @ 01:15 AM
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I'm 22 years old, last year, 2 weeks after telling my father that I was thinking about killing myself for the past 5 years..

he told me that every problem in his life was because of me,

I had stop cutting for about 2 years, when he told me that, i went upstairs, grabbed my pocket knife, and cut a 2.5 foot mark across my chest, i couldnt bare it anymore..

posts like this, let me know that it will all eventually even out, like i told u, i know there are hills and valleys, but sometimes u cant see the light from the darkness.

im fine now, everything is, a-ok



posted on May, 30 2009 @ 12:54 AM
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Alcoholism creeps up on most people.

It makes one high then makes one die.

Chidren see a sober Dad, and a Drunk Dad.

Then unfortunately once the disease takes hold anger is there when one is drunk and when one is sober the body rebelling against being sober.

Many say once they become reformed that the drunk years are a blur.

Unfortunately the years can be long and slow for the alchoilcs loved ones.

We can all just try and move on.

That sounds trite but it is truth.



posted on Jun, 3 2009 @ 01:36 PM
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reply to post by iwishicould
 



Past despair

When worries overcome you and drown you on the shore
When trouble is getting deeper, each day a little more
And you cannot rest your mortal soul, nor tell your heart to ease
This world won't tell you when to die, won't force you through your knees
When life becomes too hard and around you builds a wall
While everyone betrays you , they will not hear your squall
But you will not rest your mortal soul, won't tell your heart to ease
No one will tell you when to die, or bend you through your knees
When all seems to preclude you and no hold to carry on
When all hope seems to vanish, but you still know right from wrong
You cannot rest your mortal soul, nor tell your heart to ease
This world won't tell you how to die, won't force you through your knees
When time is past despair, you will hear that little voice
That tells you to stand firm because you'll always have a choice
And never to rest your mortal soul, never tell your heart to ease
Let no one tell you when to die, or force you through your knees



You take care IwishIcould!
Remember you live your own life, don't let someone else make you be in a place you don't choose to be



posted on Jun, 4 2009 @ 03:36 AM
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Originally posted by GypsK
reply to post by iwishicould
 



Past despair

When worries overcome you and drown you on the shore
When trouble is getting deeper, each day a little more
And you cannot rest your mortal soul, nor tell your heart to ease
This world won't tell you when to die, won't force you through your knees
When life becomes too hard and around you builds a wall
While everyone betrays you , they will not hear your squall
But you will not rest your mortal soul, won't tell your heart to ease
No one will tell you when to die, or bend you through your knees
When all seems to preclude you and no hold to carry on
When all hope seems to vanish, but you still know right from wrong
You cannot rest your mortal soul, nor tell your heart to ease
This world won't tell you how to die, won't force you through your knees
When time is past despair, you will hear that little voice
That tells you to stand firm because you'll always have a choice
And never to rest your mortal soul, never tell your heart to ease
Let no one tell you when to die, or force you through your knees



You take care IwishIcould!
Remember you live your own life, don't let someone else make you be in a place you don't choose to be





Of truth beautifully expressed, to those of us ,of all ages.

The young the most need a trustworthy true guide, and sometimes the words of the earnest are worth more than most.



posted on Jun, 4 2009 @ 05:23 AM
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Gypsy, you made me cry.
The poems about your father and mother easily mimic my life with my ex.
Can't say any more....

[edit on 4-6-2009 by AccessDenied]



posted on Jun, 17 2009 @ 04:06 AM
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Sorrow, oh sorrow can it be said, Iam dead in this new place

Hate comes to me and I sink in my disgrace

A foreign soul come to die in this prepared hole

We hate a spirit that speaks another tone

Piss off and go back to your alien home.

Years that turn soul to bone.

Love you ,and I know you fought

Love you.



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