11-17-2012, 01:10 AM
*In the spirit of the personal poem Todd recently posted, I am posting one very personal one--decidedly not for the purpose of being critiqued. It's more like a "this-is-who-I-am" (or at least a "this-is-where-I-come-from") poem. Most of the poems I have written were not born from situations where I gave a toss about the literary quality. My concern was "how can I get this vast pain and confusion out of me and onto paper?"
It didn't really seem like a "fun" poem, so I didn't put it in the "just-for-fun" section.
Daddy's Little Girl
“Who could ever love this broken girl –
absurd with fear
stupid with pain...
Should this worn-out thing ever deserve love –
look at her
curled up in a bawl
on the floor...
What freak of nature could find love in his heart
for this thing?!”
Indeed, only the farthest-flung stars,
removed to the Edge of Night
could ever look upon her
through a sparkling tear of compassion.
For only they, in their own dark solitude,
have lived in the depths of her anguish.
It didn't really seem like a "fun" poem, so I didn't put it in the "just-for-fun" section.
Daddy's Little Girl
“Who could ever love this broken girl –
absurd with fear
stupid with pain...
Should this worn-out thing ever deserve love –
look at her
curled up in a bawl
on the floor...
What freak of nature could find love in his heart
for this thing?!”
Indeed, only the farthest-flung stars,
removed to the Edge of Night
could ever look upon her
through a sparkling tear of compassion.
For only they, in their own dark solitude,
have lived in the depths of her anguish.