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Open Poetry #37
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Pounded Clay
| Open Poetry #37 |
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Pounded Clay |
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XOx Uriah xOX Senior Member
since 2006-02-11
Posts 1403Virginia 
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Daily, I stroll... Past the weathered house of neglect; Through its walls, I hear the battles rage inside. In your eyes...I see the fear... That their teary pools reflect. I've discovered the leafy maple in which you hide. Scrawny lad, wrapped in rags... With the little stuffed horse, That your tears have stained. Bruises and welts betray the belt. Your eyes chronicle the pain. You gather the bottles and cans... That bedeck the lawn; While your father spits angry words, in rage. Your self esteem... to be aborted... While in its embryonic stage. Seeking approval, you step to servitude; You quickly cater to all demands. Such delicate clay need not be POUNDED; But shaped, by gentle, caring hands. I fear the future that awaits you. I lament the hellish life you've had. The heartless Witch that you call "Mother" The evil Ogre you call "Dad" State assistance, spent on vices... While your grumbling belly shrinks. You, cling to a solitary toy... While Mother styles and Father drinks. Today, I think I'll call to you... I pray you will allow... A speck of trust, that I may break through... A chance to be your pal. We could walk or sit and talk. I'd tell you tales and read you books. We could slip away on Saturdays... Lure Catfish to the hook. I cannot say what games we'd play... No fool-proof plan, have I ; I have no clue how I might break through... But, I know that I must try ! With a paper bag of candied treats... To barter for a smile... I searched for you, among the leaves, And hoped we'd chat awhile. The little tear-streaked dirty face, Did not peer out from its hiding place. As it had, so many times before. The house of havoc, stood in silence; A black bow tied upon its door. The funeral parlor's halls hissed with whispers; Incense lavendered the air; Mourners came, with slow, respectful steps... To view you lying there. So clean and neat ! So sweet and fair ! The manikin smiled peacefully in its sleep. The pounded clay had found its shape... The Witch and Ogre weep. I have no knowledge of " The Wheel of Life " I can only speculate... What foul Karma, from incarnations past, Has led you to this fate. I hunted down your resting ground; Where the carnal form was laid ; I placed the treats upon the mound... And prayed your debt was paid. |
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| © Copyright 2006 Larry F. Leake - All Rights Reserved | |||
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iliana Member Patricius
since 2003-12-05
Posts 13434USA |
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The Lady Member Rara Avis
since 2005-12-26
Posts 7634The Southwest |
It's just beautiful but I'm with Jo... |
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ThisDiamond Member Rara Avis
since 2002-02-22
Posts 9353Michigan, USA |
Tremendous impact. The power of your poetry, used to the light. Well done. TD |
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XOx Uriah xOX Senior Member
since 2006-02-11
Posts 1403Virginia |
Thank you all for taking time to read and comment. |
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MGROVES
since 2004-02-01
Posts 3802california |
this brings out memories that nothing can delete. unless a miracle to stop a cycle that continues on and lies in gods hands as i am powerless against demons from bottles and smoke. and lies to protect ones who do this damage and destroy innocence. My spirit will rise |
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dgvarner Member Elite
since 2000-05-13
Posts 3552High Springs, Florida |
wow...that one is truly, powerfully, sad...  written nicely.. hugs, g "We of the craft are all crazy...all are more or less touched." Lord Byron |
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