I ran away countless times
but I always came back by morning
with my mama waiting on the back steps
smoking a cigarette in her bra and panties.
“Where did you go this time?”
She never waited for an answer
or felt the need to punish me for scaring her,
because truth was, she never was,
and that was punishment enough for me.
Author notes
Prompt: i want to hear your silence and not the obvious part
In a list
A contest entry
- silencio at feast by Virgoan.
2500 points, ended September 13, 15 entries
Honorable winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 62 of 62
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I too have memories similar. I'll never share these memories with anyone..but you.
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Beautiful...and yes you amaze me which reminds me of my short story "Maria runs in perfect circles".
Very, very good piece.
Thanks for sharing your gift.
HENSLEY
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Oooh, that last part...the pain became physical; your simplicity cuts deep. (Oh, how I had missed reading such words!)
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This is beauitfully written. I love that its so short, it really gives it a sense of urgency, if that makes sense. Anyway, nicely done.
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wow.. Harsh but nicely done.
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As we age we realize the things our mother (parents) sacrifice to give us what we have and to make us what we become...
I think this poem depicts that well.
♥Becky♥
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Fantastic
What I like about your poem is that it shows how when we try to get others to listen in and feel what we are feeling through our actions, we are usually not noticed. Your last line is so strong and gives me the feeling that maybe you gave up expecting anything different from your mother and ran away as a form of self-punishment. -
Perfect.
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not perfect...but thank you
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Wow
"because truth was, she never was,
and that was punishment enough for me."
Holy crap, that was good!
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thank you! love, lane
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The way this develops is absolute genius and the final line ... a world of feeling in so few words.
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thank you so much for reading. Hope all is well with you, my friend. It's been a busy summer! Love to you, Lane
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I read your poem and suddenly realised what a silent cry sounds like.
Once again, your poetry has moved me and I find myself staring at the floor, thinking sad thoughts.
Thanks for posting this,
Love, Peter
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Peter, I believe firmly that without sadness in life we can't really know or appreciate happiness. I have had a fair share of both, so life up your eyes. Smile.
Love, lane
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All my twisted little mind can think is what would you have done if she did care? If met with concern, appreciation, understanding and love how would you have reacted? How would you react now? Look at what you have done! I am lost in thought. Help! Somebody hit me. Where's Mairi when I need her...
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now, I am lost in thought...
xxoo Lane
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This just cries from the soul. A wonderful expression of hurt, without mentioning it at all.
Thank you for sharing.
Be well,
Slayer
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Slayer...I really look forward to reading your comments. Thank you so very much. Love, Lane
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Loving the end line edit...and your poetry of course
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the end line should always have some sort of sting, don't you think? Love, Lane
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I would say that your mother had a certain faith. Perhaps she saw herself as a young girl reflected in your wandering, soulful eyes and I’m sure she loved you. Powerful write Lane and all the best in the contest.
With much love,
mj.
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the older i get, the more i understand...i am a lot like my mother but i am not her. Thank you so much for your kind words, Michael. Love, Lane
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I'm constantly amazed at your ability to paint a scene so vividly that the reader feels like they are there standing next to (or actually being) in the situation. All the emotions of loneliness, abandonment, inferiority etc. simply ooze out of the words on this page in a tragically sad poem.
I could go on with adjectives for a long time but you've heard it before from others and will here it again, you have a fabulous ability and we thank you for sharing with us.
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you have made me feel fabulous. Thank you so much. I never know what reaction I'm going to get when I write something, but it's okay...I write what I feel and sometimes, what I write makes someone else feel Love, Lane
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This works out well then. You keep writing beautiful pieces and I can keep telling you how good they are.
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It stings
and raises a welt on our minds....like no willow switch ever could.
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for reading and leaving behind your thoughts and applause, I thank you. Love, lane
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So many parents just don't give a damn and I don't understand it. My oldest child is 32 and I still like to know what she is up to!!
Your emotion just runs off the page with this one darling. I love you lots.
Good luck in the contest.
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back at ya, C Love, Lane
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whoa.
beautiful. stark. & expertly written. i'm jealous of the way you can show so much emotion in such a subtle and simple manner...
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your words and applause mean so much. thank you. love, lane
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This is a perfect interpretation of the prompt in my opinion. The last stanza hit close to home and brought back some bitter memories. BRAVO!
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my memories aren't bitter more than they are just pieces of a life in a life...
thank you so much for reading Love, Lane
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Not caring, or showing you don't care always seems to be almost the harshest thing a parent can do.
Brilliant writing of course, a picture painted in every detail with the absolute minimum of brush strokes. Breathtaking.
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(crawler! )
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As always lovely Lane you press all the right buttons and up pops a miracle write-
Hilly xxx
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Hilly a day without you is horrid. Thank you so much for being here and always leaving behind a smile. love, lane
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I agree with Mairi bheag.
. .
-joan.
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Nice to know.
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psst..meetcha at the jellybean tree
What she said.--- |
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\/!!!
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Tightly written, as always, you have a gift for painting such a vivid picture with just a few strokes. Well done.
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thank you. Love, lane
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Again I tag along at the back of the line, here at the meeting of the Lane fan-club, wishing my stuff could whip up half the storm of adulation that yours does!
Now then, what can I say? How about, "You've done it again"? You captured a scene, a time of life, a place, a feeling, and expressed it perfectly. That's what you do. Countless times.
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We are the foot print of the path behind us. When those who walked before us no longer care where the path goes we are anchored in a wash where the waters have run dry. Every child knows they are supposed to dance, when the music is silent they think it is their fault that their steps are barren of support. When the child leaps out to fly and there is no wind to support flight, how can they not believe the fall is because they do not flap hard enough. You still soar. The ache that races with the blood and the hollow sound of her stare that still throbs in the marrow is never about you. Even when you are the finger print at times when the night is too small to hold you.
I fixed my father so many times that I found out he was threatened by me. I was lucky. Before he died, I let him be the little man he was and loved him anyway. He knew it and a lot of his anger became ash. The answer is always about letting go of the past they left for us to resolve and live only the life we have -- our own.
Love,
Tom B.
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all the stops along the way to where we are now...so amazing the search, so many paths, so much discovery...so many moments of realization...PK
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excellent..and don't we all run away at many times, or wish we could..for there are times a brackish blackness pervades our souls.
We all delve into imitative behavior
Of melanized absence-
More than any of us admit..
We accept these forays into
These dark realms-
For we are taught,
Or come to believe,
That doing so fortifies
Our favored illusions
Regarding our attempts
To succeed regarding
Dark inquisitions.’
For the fortunate few
However, there comes a moment
Where the veil of darkness is lifted
By another, not purposeful
Yet not accidentally either.
And when the light is
Troweled in from those
Crevices of one’s soul,
The healing begins,
And the darkness ends.
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Is this your deep comment? It doesn't mention your soldier days, so yes it is. Cool poem.
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my comment has nothing to do with my service days
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My Lady
Some say we choose our position in this life based on lessons our soul needs to learn. Damn, you needed to learn a truck load.
Next time around ought to be paradise for you,if you learned. Me, I'm probably goin' around again. LOL
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She really cared, or she would not be sitting on the porch waiting for you.
Another peak into you.
Joe
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Oooh this cuts to the quick, feeling like you are so invisible they don't even know you've gone let alone were there. I felt this hun. Love, C
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As someone who has been running away from God knows what forever, I can feel your pain, your need to get away, your desire to find the comfort, the solace that we all so desperately seek . . . Keep on running Lanie, perhaps we will find ourselves on the same path someday and we can run together, hands clasped and full of uproarious laughter . . .
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marc... your comments are oooh so worth reading. thank you very much. love, lane
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oh Lane,. What a brutal realization for a young girl....
A telling poem, as always. You know I just love reading your work.
~Meg
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i think you look stunning in your photo. Thanks for reading my poem, and mind if I borrowed that shoe? Love, Lane
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Thank you
. Of course! Feel free to use the shoe .
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Another glimpse into the many facets of your mind. Like a snapshot picture, with a narrative, providing understanding. Love this!
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the mind is a rather muddled maze sometimes, but where else can we go when we need to write? thank you so much for reading my poetry and for the cute yellow dudes Love, Lane
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Sounds like an excerpt
from your colorfully poetic life...
I always like to glorify running away--the only problem is, you know you're gonna come back, and I'd be ashamed to do that, so I never did get around to running away LoL.
Your title...while a common phrase, well, it's SO TRUE here.
"or felt the need to punish me for scaring her,
because truth was, she never was,
and this was punishment enough for me."
Freaking fabulous. Conveys your feelings so well in a way that leaves me wanting to read more about your effed up life...HAHAHA
Although...I think "that was" sounds better than 'this'.
Am I crazy?? LoL...
Good poem...as always. Good luck
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