Three prompts for September:
Curve the Learning
My father’s shadow is…now a haunting memory
Looking in the mirror and seeing every day his features
On my feminine face, the second daughter who was not a son
But perhaps acted like one…tomboy, rebellious rebel
Looking in the mirror and seeing every day his features
On my feminine face, the second daughter who was not a son
But perhaps acted like one…tomboy, rebellious rebel
The middle child, second of his first wife – she died.
The second wife gave him his son, – but then took him away -
Though they did eventually meet and then that son
gave him a son to carry on his sacred name…
The second wife gave him his son, – but then took him away -
Though they did eventually meet and then that son
gave him a son to carry on his sacred name…
So I was not the first and not the last, that in between
Half scowling, sometimes silent, other times aggressively outspoken
Daughter who wanted answers that she waited to long to ask
So then will never get answered…so many secrets.
Half scowling, sometimes silent, other times aggressively outspoken
Daughter who wanted answers that she waited to long to ask
So then will never get answered…so many secrets.
I’ve learned that shadows are good at keeping secrets -
I’ve learned that I can still love a memory of the man who was true to himself
I’ve learned that I can take what I have been given and make light…
I’ve learned that the words I write settle down just right…
I’ve learned that I can still love a memory of the man who was true to himself
I’ve learned that I can take what I have been given and make light…
I’ve learned that the words I write settle down just right…
The blood that runs through my veins had to start somewhere…
And with the help of his third wife – that mothers come in all shapes and sizes
While I may not be able to see my features in her face, I know of her love
For me, and the love she had for my father…and the solid being that he was.
And with the help of his third wife – that mothers come in all shapes and sizes
While I may not be able to see my features in her face, I know of her love
For me, and the love she had for my father…and the solid being that he was.
©JP/davh
With Thanks to http://themirrorobscura.com/2013/09/22/my-fathers-shadow/
Where the last line, which also happens to be the title comes from.
Where the last line, which also happens to be the title comes from.
~~~~~~~~~~
Bartolomé Esteban Murillo: A Girl and her Duenna
computations
was anyone with me all those lonely nights
when upstairs they shielded themselves
from the outside world, together
when the whole or most of it, the basement
which was divided and turned into
a shared sitting area and shared room, loomed
all the more empty because the sibling was away
so there I lay alone without window, in the dark
on a bed that was too short,
because I was the youngest…
when upstairs they shielded themselves
from the outside world, together
when the whole or most of it, the basement
which was divided and turned into
a shared sitting area and shared room, loomed
all the more empty because the sibling was away
so there I lay alone without window, in the dark
on a bed that was too short,
because I was the youngest…
was anyone with me when I rode the crowded bus
to and from the apartment on the edge of town
because I had no car, I had wrecked it in a rage
to escape the house that I had no say in
but had stayed in, to almost be their slave in…
to and from the apartment on the edge of town
because I had no car, I had wrecked it in a rage
to escape the house that I had no say in
but had stayed in, to almost be their slave in…
was anyone with me in the home that edged
the wood where the vents trumpeted repeated
accusations and arguments into the small morning hours
there too, I made myself scarce while attempting
to heal scars that were never explained just rearranged
at their convenience – until some great force of reckoning
heard a plea, my begging to be free, yet willing to
follow certain traditions until a different knot was tied
the wood where the vents trumpeted repeated
accusations and arguments into the small morning hours
there too, I made myself scarce while attempting
to heal scars that were never explained just rearranged
at their convenience – until some great force of reckoning
heard a plea, my begging to be free, yet willing to
follow certain traditions until a different knot was tied
would it have been any different if I had a guardian?
a chaperone who actually cared beyond the basics,
a set of parental units who didn’t need me as a friend…
a chaperone who actually cared beyond the basics,
a set of parental units who didn’t need me as a friend…
©JP/davh
~~~~~~~~~~
Two the Nines
The fabric was new once
From the thrift shop it is new to me
From the thrift shop it is new to me
Fancy for the plain me, the plan
Is to use the jacket and the dress
Is to use the jacket and the dress
To look my best, if that is possible
For several different occasions
For several different occasions
©JP/davh
