I think I was about 3, as far back as I can remember.
There I was it must of been December.
Why I say that I don't really know.
Just seems like along time ago.
Yet still and very bitter cold.
I tried to see beyond that paper you were holding.
Instead you greeted me with a bitter cold scolding.
I suppose it would not of been so bad.
Except to me you were my only dad.
Odd now the room fills up with a degree of strife,self center ness,and the darkness grew.
Grew to a degree with hidden suddletease, moments of time locked inside from that room.
Had you only known the harsh cold bitter winter brew.
Each and every day the winter became longer and harsher.
As I became older there was still much I did not say.
So much is trapped beneath my torn skin had you only new that witches brew.
from that dark cold den.
All things pass must be reviewed.
You fell into your place beneath that paper which still covers your face.
Truly in the stillness of cover lies and decay, awaited the time for a timely display.
Between now and then not much has really changed.
I still see you anchored to your chair,
with a ball and chain.
As the room grew always colder.
bitter cold icicles formed on your nose.
You never cared as I glazed over what you have became.
A lot like you I see in the mirror. Just like you I am destined to a chair.
One locked up by a ball and chain waiting for destiny and a review.
How could it be that my skin has turned blue.
It's easy for I turned out just like you.
For I am alone now in my own dark end bitter cold room.
The only difference is the room smells of flowers perfumed.
I try to remind my self that things are no longer bitter cold.
Tell that to my bones that ache with cold fate.
Maybe had you or I only known.
We went to a store once, then there was a sign.
It said welcome as long as you are kind.
We looked for another without such a sign.
We found one and walked in.
Then was smoothed with welcome fore and behind.
East and West all around us was not kind.
However you took it as a welcome mat.
Back then I did not know the fate of a crate.
Or I mean yours and mine.
Why do I write this letter?
When I will get no response.
For all of your coughing you did,
has gone into my bones.
Is that response enough to call your death my home.
I have very few memories of you,
the few that I do.
Remind me of the present you left me.
Your crate as my fate.
I try not to be bitter cold about this.
I really do, all I ever wanted was to be loved by you.
If I could forgive you I surely would.
Maybe post a sign where you once stood.
It's too late now for the pass has come to play.
Except what that really means is I will probably die this day.
Or maybe tomorrow.
There is not much I can do, for things have gone pass my bone into my marrow.
Don't worry for I still forgive you.
For if it was not for you, how could I relate.
From the pass to the present.
Perhaps its not to late.
What is it I am really trying to say.
Pay attention to your children.
Put your cigarette out. For one day will come your review.
Pray that my day does not happen to you.
If you cannot think pass your own nose.
Then you are passing on your history.
Locked into a book.
If you don't believe me just take a look.
Look deep into those eyes that are starving for attention.
What would be your answer.
Or did not I already mention.
Just think your child's entire life always in detention.
| amazing peice you have written hear, its a imaginary conversation and is almost like a question answer session, the same person asking and answering the question and the other simply listening, or that the writers is imaging that the person is actually listening, wereas its just venting....|
you have been venting out for your feeling... this essentially is should have a been great relief to you rather you regard this as your best peice....
so much of a struggle and courage should have been required to do something like this... you should be more than free now...
detention is not anymore a valid term for you and thats how u finish it dont you... a message to all around people and whalla.. its Kwel
neat work, just requires a few spell checks.... congrats.
|| Posted on 2006-05-13 00:00:00 | by rawpot | [ Reply to This ] || Hi Jesse,|
This poem was the most personal and emotion-bearing I've read from you. It is indeed a very sad one.
To me, it seems as if all the 'Dad' character did was work, in a room you describe as "cold" and "dark", leaving no time for his children.
It was very long, but kept you interested the entire time. I especially liked the way you related to and then illustrated your surroundings - very impressive.
As always, I have qualms over the grammar and spelling, but I know you're working on it.
Keep it up.
|| Posted on 2006-05-10 00:00:00 | by Leila | [ Reply to This ] || Bonne travaille Gannondalf, the piece has improved greatly. All technical mistakes aside, I challenged you and you answered. You put it in a proper poetic format and I wasn't spoon-fed all of your feelings. Unfortunately I don't have time to go through this in detail, as far as everything I can appreciate out of this (there's a lot). |
Some parts I did stumble over were "bitter cold icles" because it looks like "ides," which has a completely different meaning from the one you had in mind (The word is "icicles), and it should be "remember" which rhymes better with "December." Editting is very important in poetry and is done mutiple times until it's "perfect."
Overall good job!
|| Posted on 2006-05-05 00:00:00 | by Ziplock006 | [ Reply to This ] || the part of sitting in the room and smells like perfumes. I liked that. it is saying that you are just like your dad, but you noticed it enough to try to change it and he did not change. liked this poem. it is a fav||| Posted on 2006-05-04 00:00:00 | by dudethis | [ Reply to This ] || well normally i would [censored] and complain about how short a poem would seem on this website but however here i can not. it seems to me you put alot of time and effort into it. and for once im thanking you for this work. its hard to come a writer who seems to enjoy putting time into there work for length. |
this poem made me feel a bit under spell. hrm... sometimes i wonder. lol. i think the use of wording in this poem made me feel like this. mainly for lines similiar and like this:
"You fell into your place beneith that paper which still covers your face.
Truly in the stillnes of cover lies and decay, awaited the time for a timely display.
Between now and then not much has really changed."
dude this line is awesome. :D and so was the rest of it. your use of a spooky metaphor and and display of witchcraft is down right appealing. i think its the way you use your wording mainly.
"So much is traped benieth my torn skin had you only new that witches brew.
from that dark cold den"
i must thank you for these lines. they are stunning. i think its the best line in the whole piece, which goes to say alot since the poem is long and in its entirely has alot of good grammar function and imagry. which is another topic.
in closing im saying this poem is definately original and im adding it to my favs. and sorry for the bad vote, i should have given you a 5...:(
|| Posted on 2006-05-01 00:00:00 | by siroez | [ Reply to This ] || Jesse|
I am very happy you turned me on to this
I do see the simalaritys in our writes
But I must say my Friend
Your write is much deeper and much more profound then mine
I believe you are referring to how Children not only learn from their parents the information that stays with them for life
But the childs genes are also made of the same genes the parents have
Which in effect means
Everything they take into there body will have some effect on their children
Again A Fantastic write
I look forward to reading more writes from you
|| Posted on 2006-07-08 00:00:00 | by Ronswords | [ Reply to This ] || This poem reminded me of my relationship with my father or the lack of one. This poem really sticks with you even after reading it I can still visualize everything. It's very impressive.||| Posted on 2006-05-01 00:00:00 | by jolene | [ Reply to This ] |