this is not a nice poem.
not nice at all.
well written, yes.
format-wise and grammatically perfect, yes.
but this is not a nice poem.
this makes me want to cry a little.
reminds me of my dad, except my dad never made me eat soap.
very leave-a-lump-in-your-throat-ish, but lovely all the same.
Wow, this was a nice trip down memory lane, except it was experienced totally differently because of your choice of words. I think it's amazing the words you chose to use to weave the pattern of the story here, it's very unique. The description was amusing. I especially like the last stanza, and the "...pockets/full of energy..." I can remember times when the anger needed to spill out, or risk the fear of exploding. Somehow, though, it's not as angry as I would expect is to be when I would remember the scenes. It's almost like I can see things now and understand more of what happened. I wish I had a better restraint to my words, but it's why I write now. I guess something good came out of it, huh? Really nice write, thank you.
Sorry for the double comment, but I accidentally posted before I was done. I love how the seriousness of this message wasn't lost, and that you could tell it in such an offhanded unique way. The fear of dirtying the floor for fear of the back of his hand, is so clear (and familiar in some respects to me) that it hit right at home. I enjoyed this read for the mixture of seriousness/comedy and the unique way in which you told it.
Wow! This is great. Its such a simple tale, so well told. I love the way you structure your stanzas, it makes this read so smooth. Your metaphors and personification are not only perfect, but in some cases (like the porcelain goddess) absolutely hilarious. This was well written, and an enjoyable read. Thanks for an entertaining minute or two on this bummer of a day. Kind of brightened it up a bit.