NaPM April 14 2014

[milo]

Rules: Write a poem for national poetry month on the topic or form described. Each poem should appear as a separate reply to this thread. The goal is to, at the end of the month have written 30 poems for National Poetry Month.

Topic 14: Today's prompt comes from justcloudy. Write a poem about a traumatic childhood experience.
Form : any
Line requirements: 8 lines or more

Questions?

[Erthona]

My friend Brian and I,
had dirt clods, a goodly supply,
a berm to hide behind and spy,
all went well, til I took one in the eye,
being young I started to cry.
My dad stormed out looking like a god,
demanding why we were throwing sod,
(for he had once lost an eye)
when he saw that I was fine,
he grab me, hug me, then paddled my behind.

[ChristopherSea]

Migraine

Cloaking me in a mildewed veil,
camouflaged in it's slow assail,
it enters as a parasite,
unwelcome guest with no respite;
a blood-red rose with piercing thorn,
toxins discharge in callous scorn.

Tendrils extend to infiltrate,
pinching taught nerves into dire straits.
The rusted sword of Damocles
hews a raw wound for spirochetes.
Poison-ivy vines through my eye,
the pupil dilates in decry.

No ease in Belladonna's arms,
opium dens or Shaman's charms.
In darkened room, the nightshades drawn,
hands clench in prayer with peace forgone.
Hall clock chimes my hours of illness
with a blacksmith’s hammered shrillness.

[milo]

Ten years Old and Ten Years Gone

My mother always claimed that children
shouldn’t know as she cross-palmed her lip tic
at a party smelling whiskey sour

but children gather like balloons in bunches
and paint the grass calyptic-
blue and one was me and maybe

one was you, bare-shouldered
bubbling through, apocalyptic
your neck smells soft like birthday cake

your breath like melon-dew
as I closed-lung inhale the tryptic
and fly away
and fly away
with you.

[Keith]

Foreign bodies

I used to see you
through the ice,
your hair alive black eels,
writhing spliced against the white,
were stagnant waters feel.

My hands would beat
a branch snap rhythm,
to cause a blip or
start the trace,
but then I wake.

They cut their catch
on frozen shores,
each item stole to save,
you gave whats yours
to give,
we took your hollow
to the grave.

[cidermaid]

Hmm think I should have pickd something else to write about...this was difficult.

The china pig lay broken in my hands.
I’d never really liked it,
but hadn’t meant for this to happen.

I am sat eating breakfast with Gran.
My brother is still in bed.
On our plates - bacon, eggs, toast and jam.

She coughed and choked, then tried to stand;
not knowing what to do
I tried to pull the bacon, fearful of reprimands.

I shouted as loud as I can. Tried to raise an alarm,
“Get up and help me with Gran”
Back and forth I ran, I could not lift her in my arms.

A glass of water in the face shifted him to give chase.
He stopped and stared,
then holding hands, we fled in tears, pale-faced.

I received a piggy bank that I’d never seen before
at seven I didn’t understand
why my brother received nothing from Gran.

[ChristopherSea]

My friend Brian and I,
had dirt clods, a goodly supply,
a berm to hide behind and spy,
all went well, til I took one in the eye,
being young I started to cry.
My dad stormed out looking like a god,
demanding why we were throwing sod,
(for he had once lost an eye)
when he saw that I was fine,
he grab me, hug me, then paddled my behind.

Did you kick sand in people's faces at the beach too Dale?

[justcloudy]

Stowaway

Circular racks of Walmart clothes
made the best hiding places
when big brother was seeking.
Inside I was invisible, invincible.
The carpet smelled dusty as I sat
on the iron X in the center
fingering the different fabrics in turn.

One time he never found me.

My tummy grew heavy and hot
once I crawled out and found the cart gone.
I panted, glued to a pole in the center
of the plus sized women’s clothes,
till a man in a blue polo told me to follow him.
He had a yellow-faced pin like the stickers the old lady
gave us after mom paid, reaching from her wheelchair.
After plodding light-headed for years I spied layaway
and my red-faced mom.

[ChristopherSea]

Stowaway

Circular racks of Walmart clothes
made the best hiding places
when big brother was seeking.
Inside I was invisible, invincible.
The carpet smelled dusty as I sat
on the iron X in the center
fingering the different fabrics in turn.

One time he never found me.

My tummy grew heavy and hot
once I crawled out and found the cart gone.
I panted, glued to a pole in the center
of the plus sized women’s clothes,
till a man in a blue polo told me to follow him.
He had a yellow-faced pin like the stickers the old lady
gave us after mom paid, reaching from her wheelchair.
After plodding light-headed for years I spied layaway
and my red-faced mom.

just cloudy, My daughter pulled off this same stunt and scared us half to death. We had informed the store and they placed a sales person at the only exit. Five minutes later our little one called out from within one of those clothing rack rounds you write of. You naughty girls! It was a harrowing experience for us all. Your poem vividly evoked that sinking feeling and time dilation (it seemed like an hour). Well done/Chris

[justcloudy]

Glad you enjoyed this rough first draft Chris. Thanks for the encouragement! I had a habit of doing that when I was little, but after all that happened I crawled out pretty quickly each time. Hope your daughter learned her lesson too! ;p

[ellajam]

Empty boxes

Two young sisters sat under the dining table
with paper and pencil, playing
a game on the grid they drew.
Line by line, each square would earn
a C or M, a point claimed to total up.

Mom cried out in panic,
M stood so fast she bumped
her head, the ambulance
came and took dad.
Mom said later,
"I'll never watch those hospital shows again."

Forty years later C told the story,
complete with bumping her head. M wondered
which memories were truly her own.