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Crimson Butterfly, Conclusion
| Open Poetry #2 |
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Crimson Butterfly, Conclusion |
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Mark R. Member
since 1999-06-25
Posts 113San Francisco, CA. |
One night as the stairs, I did ascend, I heard a whimper from the corner, So I had to descend. Crouched in the dark, was Mother with tear filled eyes, Beginning to walk towards her, I could now hear her cries. Scratches and bruises were revealed to my sight, As I held and comforted, to control her fright. Then and there I prayed I'd make a stand, Against the crimson butterfly and the wavering hand. Confident and strong, I marched into the den, These hurtful days I would now put to an end. "Father," I said. "I can no longer pretend, That you to hell.....God will soon send. Perhaps even an angel our hearts will one day mend." Embarrassed and angry the six foot man stood, With a fist clenched tight, and a club made of wood. "How dare you, I'm your father you little bastard!!" he yelled. Frightened and trembling, my ground I still held. Punch after punch he continued to give, Falling to the floor, I wondered if I would live. Black, blue, purple, flashed before my eyes, And hit upon hit made me re-live all his lies. CRACK---A loud noise came from aback, Grazing my shoulder and hitting my father in the back. CRACK----CRACK----CRACK, Three more melting shots followed, hard and unbound. Leaving my father, sprawled on the ground. Looking to the door I saw mother standing, Her eyes focused on the bullets landing. "Mommy, you killed Daddy!" "No, sweetheart, I didn't. I killed a monster..a monster who gave us nothing but pain....had'nt he?" Staring at my father, I turned to his hand Encircling his finger was an old wedding band. As I looked closer I found something queer, Closer and closer I looked as I began to fear. That on his ring, the shape of a butterfly had begun to appear. Blood trickled down his arm and covered his head, With a crimson color that was deep and red. Glaring at each other, my mother and I, fled. And as blood continued to cover my fathers hand.... "Mommy, no matter where we go across the land, We can have faith and each other that we made a stand. And no longer in our lives will we see, The crimson butterfly and the wavering hand....no more mommy....we are free!" |
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| © Copyright 1999 Mark R. - All Rights Reserved | |||
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poetFemmeFatale Member Elite
since 1999-07-25
Posts 2646Arkansas |
Jeeeze Louise, this is potent! What a story !! Good for them ! You know, you hear more of this every day - kids killing abusive parents.....so sad. There should be another way......Fabulous poem! ------------------ I beckon you to come...I lure you with my tongue... - poet FemmeFatale |
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U K Hero Member
since 1999-08-08
Posts 266England |
Very touching indeed, well done. |
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Pepper Member Elite
since 1999-08-19
Posts 3079Southern Florida |
very,very powerful....I love your choice of title ------------------ May your days be filled with lots of sunshine and your nights lit up by golden moonbeams |
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hoot_owl_rn Member Patricius
since 1999-07-05
Posts 10750Glen Hope, PA USA |
Very powerful piece Mark Despiration leads to some unwise choices sometime....I of all people know that ------------------ "Nobody has measured, not even poets, how much the heart can hold" ~Zelda Fitzgerald |
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hoot_owl_rn Member Patricius
since 1999-07-05
Posts 10750Glen Hope, PA USA |
Sorry about the double post.....grumbles loudly at her computer ------------------ "Nobody has measured, not even poets, how much the heart can hold" ~Zelda Fitzgerald [This message has been edited by hoot_owl_rn (edited 09-10-99).] |
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WhtDove Member Rara Avis
since 1999-07-22
Posts 9245Illinois |
This brought tears to my eyes. Such a deep sadness for those who go through an ordeal like that. Very well written! I loved your title too!!! |
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