Photo Challenge: Poem – Alouette –  “Papa’s Hands” #amwriting #poetry 


Thanks to NEKNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s Photo Challenge prompt. 

——–

Credit: NEKNEERAJ- MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie

——–We sit at home eat,

Soft pasta with meat. 

Mama taught me to make food. 

I was a child small,

She yelled and she called —

Me  — incapable and rude.

——

They weren’t angry words. 

But words of fear learned. 

Didn’t want to test Papa, 

She wanted perfect, 

He wanted perfect.

None desired his open hand. 

—–

At such a thing as,

Messed up pasta.

A girl couldn’t help, she learned — 

To make it right or —

Face rage for bad food. 

Mistakes, not to make, she yearned. 

——

But no one’s perfect,

And she preferred.

To leave home with her husband.

With two small children,

Became immigrants. 

Living with hope in new land. 

—–

Shops in a district,

Cultural foods listed. 

Buys groceries for family. 

As do her neighbours.

Here are diverse words.

By leaps she sees life expands. 

——-

The whole family’s glad,

No one’s smacked or mad. 

Homeland missed but no regrets. 

She holds her baby, 

Of two, to her face.

Smiles and says, “I’ve no regrets.”

—–

Her child won’t have to —

Cook or be perfect. 

Or be slapped to the floor, 

 By Grandpa who thought, 

It’s how girl’s learned; not

That his hands bruised and abused. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

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Poem: Cinquin – “No Regrets.”


A Cinquin is an unrhymed poem consisting of twenty-two syllables distributed as 2, 4, 6, 8, 2, in five lines. It was developed by the Imagist poet, Adelaide Crapsey.

For more information visit Shadow Poetry here.

 

http://www.superiorplatform.con
 
I thought,

Snow falling would,

Would cover the evidence.

But the cops are not stupid they–

Found him.

——

Gasping, 

I wonder when,

They will come to my door,

And take me away and finger print–

My hands.

—–

They’ll search,

In my dresser,

They’ll find something of his,

The gun he carried trying to–

Force me.

——

I fought

I wouldn’t let–

Him hurt me, not my body.

He injured me with his body first.

I cried.

—–

Lurking,

I saw him here,

He wanted me again, 

So, I picked up his gun and I,

Shot him.

——

They’ll lock,

Me away when, 

They identify him, 

No one knows how he hurt me first.

He’s dead.

——

I’ll go,

To prison because he,

Was a monster and I,

Killed him when he tried again, I’ve

No regrets. 

—— 

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.