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Open Poetry #31
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serenity blaze
Member Empyrean
since 2000-02-02
Posts 27738


0 posted 2004-02-22 04:59 PM


Barbie was my Goddess then
and G.I. Joe her man--
he'd saved her from the white slave trade--
a hero scarred by Vietnam.


I was just the average kid
playing plastic game pretend:
things I knew
no
child should know--
for me, there's not
"remember when...
all the world was safe?"


(I knew what I won't today.)


I ran the Hoover
'cross the rug
just so I
could sing
real loud
once
my brother
pulled the plug--
I cowered
underneath the sound
wishing
I were...anyplace
wish
away
the spotlit eye--
as I felt the taste of shame


so-said-I-and-so-I-said:


"withered"
there
"beneath the weight"

              pressing

                 questions
I can't ask

tell-me-tell-me-that-I-must

who said that I ever was?

I learned to lock my door

as I

   [edited]

       myself.



© Copyright 2004 serenity blaze - All Rights Reserved
icebox
Member Elite
since 2003-05-03
Posts 4383
in the shadows
1 posted 2004-02-22 05:08 PM


"things I knew
no
child should know--
for me, there's not
"remember when...
all the world was safe?" "

uh-huh.

I'm with you on this one.

Dark Angel
Member Patricius
since 1999-08-04
Posts 10095

2 posted 2004-02-22 05:15 PM


"remember when...
all the world was safe?"


I remember when I THOUGHT the world was safe and that was when I THOUGHT I was safe; but I was only a child then.

Great write Karen.



M xx

Local Rebel
Member Ascendant
since 1999-12-21
Posts 5767
Southern Abstentia
3 posted 2004-02-22 05:53 PM


I never thought 'edited' could be a metaphor -- but in your capable hands...

Methinks thou hast gotten better m'lady... please allow us the further priveledge...

( bow )

steavenr
Member Elite
since 2003-11-17
Posts 4058

4 posted 2004-02-22 05:59 PM


I just finished reading Magnus' It Was just before reading yours...what a contrast!  Yours is the side of life my wife comes from, while his was mine...though I have lived with someone who did not have a safe and wonderful childhood for longer than I experienced my own, I still have a hard time relating...once again, my heart goes out to your memories...but I know it takes time and love to heal the wounds of formulation...thank you for the write
Enchantress
Member Empyrean
since 2001-08-14
Posts 35113
Canada eh.
5 posted 2004-02-22 06:22 PM


Dang lady...you just keep  on gettin' better!


passing shadows
Member Empyrean
since 1999-08-26
Posts 45577
displaced
6 posted 2004-02-22 06:45 PM


awesome piece! What happened to Ken?

I love it when my kids sing loud in the car and I turn the volume down real quick...hehehe

Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049
California
7 posted 2004-02-22 11:57 PM


serenity

Hand to screen.

suthern
Deputy Moderator 1 TourDeputy Moderator 1 Tour
Member Seraphic
since 1999-07-29
Posts 20723
Louisiana
8 posted 2004-02-23 10:12 AM


Replace the plastic toys with a book I could crawl into and the vacuum with a tractor... and you've written my "good old days" too. *S*


Susan Caldwell
Member Rara Avis
since 2002-12-27
Posts 8348
Florida
9 posted 2004-02-23 10:44 AM


Yep...I know.

I wasn't allowed to lock my door...

*sigh*


jellybeans
Member Elite
since 2000-10-13
Posts 2298

10 posted 2004-02-23 10:49 AM


this makes me thankful to have had the normal childhood of an absent alcoholic father.....
hugs my friend, this is powerfully written

Goodknight
Member Elite
since 2002-06-15
Posts 2386
Ohio, USA
11 posted 2004-02-23 02:44 PM


powerfully written Karen - this is great...Paul
serenity blaze
Member Empyrean
since 2000-02-02
Posts 27738

12 posted 2004-02-24 04:53 PM


jb? My dad was always working too.

and Reb? I'd love to say that I was clever with the [edited] as metaphor, but that part I meant rather literally. Kids know instinctively to trim up their personalities to adapt and survive in unhealthy situations. (It was the locked door that was the metaphor.) I wanted to indicate that as a result of what I learned from another family, I became secretive and compartmentalized as a personality.

I wanted to clear that up as I realize the poem could have insinuated wrongly that I was sexually abused at home.

Thanks for reading, good poets. I'm off in search of the ultimate metaphor again.

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