Critical Analysis #1 |
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momma poems |
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wayoutwalt Member Elite
since 1999-06-22
Posts 4870TEXAS (it's all big) ![]() |
These three poems are dedicated to mom but i'm just not happy with them i'd like help please Part 1 It was early morning a young boy arose Grabbed his money and slipped on his clothes The same he wore when he stole in that night To find his mother was still to be all right On his face he wore a hateful little smirk She had been sick for a month dodging their work A sore on her foot that never was heeling She said it would kill her he still was unfeeling Selfish little boy to think of her that way Would he regret it for the rest of his days? He had always loved his mother to be sure But for these last seconds a lifetime to cure It was dark in the hall he tiptoed descending Life as he knew it soon to be ending Frozen in time with wishes to rewind If only he had the presence of mind And still one last chance for regret As still another second he had yet He threw on the lights a bastard uncaring To find his mother lying there staring On that night the world was left spinning The stars all black the devil was grinning But God was there ever forgiving His head to her heart still she was living The ambulance came and took her away He followed so close as he could belay But the only security that was to be found That annoying siren was still making sound In the emergency room for hours he waited His prayers did flow though a bit belated No one would speak or tell him the worst They all looked on him as if he was cursed He knew He knew he had to have known The rest of his life he would wander alone He cried with no shoulder he always had thought Would be there forever if he got this distraught The chaplain calmed him but offered no lie He told the boy soon his mother would die They sat and they prayed and there’s nothing belated So into the night those two brothers waited The term the doctor used “Son will you pull the plug?” A term most used as a sobering drug A little boy with a decision to make Never thinking later a murderer would make And on February 11th 1997 My dearest mother was greeted in heaven And with poems such as this one that I lay down My momma I love her she’ll always be around Part 2 The little boy with weary eyes never wanting more Then to be left in his room with a lock on his door Though a lack of ambition always prevented His grandma loved him and his grandpa resented Everyday he would lay watching Bogie and Bacall And he would watch the Big Sleep into which he would fall And cats seven of them decorated his room Just waiting to be found for a need to exhume A two story house with those long halls never ending Each led to darkened rooms where sadness was spending Shared memories of one who departed so dear Saddled with emotion of loss anger and fear. Tension arose between the grandfather and son There was an estate to be cleaned and jobs to be done The boy always stayed tired but so wanted to rise But everywhere he looked he saw his momma’s eyes He could see his mother in his nighttime vision Dreaming of that day he made that decision His mother would awake from that dreadful coma He would wake with a start and grab for a soma Except for the seven cats the room was empty And he knew then at once where his mother would be One black cat for each white cat lived life in his room And that added some mixture of gray and of gloom Then one day all so fast his grandfather was through He was tired of this boy having nothing to do He crept in with a gun kept under his pillow The big man moved quietly appearing a willow The boy awoke amidst the middle of a dream He did not faint or beg or offer a scream A silent understanding they had come to share And the very next day the boy was not there He roamed all the streets walking into each store Sun hurting his eyes, birds singing hurt more He missed his cats and his grandmother’s love Grandfather was back there with threatening glove A job was in hand he returned triumphantly Both of his grandparents were so happy to see He bought a computer and plugged in the cord It was a fateful thing God helped him afford His prayers for so long had been just to be kissed Would might then that it be his mother not missed? He met many women on that computer that day More in his room little by little he did stay Then one day the boy not wanting more grew bold He asked out a girl without asking how old He only cared to see what she would look like A nose ring a tattoo and hair in a spike He would not be derailed his ambition returned After prayer and more dates he started to learn The best company found his cats lying around But then one day a fair was coming to town An online attraction he asked her to go And waited those seconds one waits to hear no But she said yes and as the date of the fair came He remembered to ask so she told him her name The days he waited he was at peace with the world Something was telling him that this was the girl Might be that his momma was telling him yes This is the one that years of prayer have blessed A knock on the door there had need not be two Yes as he waited a cat puked on his shoe He ran down the hall he was lost in the moment Oh too be young in such a blissful descent A fateful day as the one that had gone past He ran with such glee not knowing it would last He threw on the lights and this time with more care The door opened slowly his future was there Part 3 What stood in front of the boy he had seen there before All neatly wrapped up in a convenient metaphor The hinges from which he’d always swung safely upon The door crept slowly open revealing she was gone There instead stood a lady whose eyes he thought explained How beauty would find a place where horror always reigned A tinge of disappointment he couldn’t keep in check His smiling ear to ear from the head upon his neck She greeted him with warmth and he followed close behind Soon he would not look back there was a future left to find She drove him away; he had no car, where had he gone The door to the house where the hinges he swung upon? The county fair was there they rode the Ferris wheel And all this time he had the chance a kiss that he could steal But the boy was just that and what would take to make a man A silent prayer went up “Dear Lord this lady can?” The feeling told in many tongues simple to understand That someone else in the world would want to hold his hand She took hold so gently as to initiate his soul A little reminder that soon she would make him whole After parting ways he searched for stars that never moved Which one was his mother smiling down that she approved He thought she might have her hand on the shoulder of his love To protect this one from her vantage point above The night was dark and the devil was not liking this He had used all his schemes but the boy had gone amiss Love was a bond the boy would never need forget A star was born that God had hued the color of her wit In his bedroom these last nights he would ever lay alone Thinking on his mother whose star now brightly shone It might be a ball of gas or an angel’s scattered toy But that star would ever shine just for that little boy Years would pass as the man lay beside his wife For hours they would cry recalling his mothers life With child in her belly and laughter at their feet They would smile together sadly their tears tasting sweet |
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© Copyright 1999 Walt Burns - All Rights Reserved | |||
Red Letter Member
since 1999-05-24
Posts 85Allentown, PA |
I know you posted this for critique but the experiences held within it are so personal, I just wouldn't feel right about it... I think that good writing needs to be honest first and foremost and this poem displays beautiful truth within it's lines. So, that said, all I can say is nicely done... Red |
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Artur Hawkwing Member
since 1999-06-30
Posts 444USA |
Remember that you are your own worst critic. Everything you've written is flawless in my eyes. Leave that a mark of appreciation. I'm sure your mom would be proud of how honest you had written the poem. She'd probably see it the same way I do, flawless. So my suggestion: DON'T CHANGE ANYTHING. |
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