STAINS

STAINS

Everyone dreams of perfection,

we have the word, 

if not the thing itself.

When I was very small,

my parents thought 

it would be my overriding trait.

I soon disabused them of that.

In those days, they held on to a belief

called the “Divine Right of Parents”

to make the rules because they said so.

Unfortunately, I was born with

a soul named, “Why?”

so their hegemony was meaningless.

I got into a lot of trouble,

but it was usually over pretty quick:

I’d do something because, 

"I don't know why!"

catch a grimace, then,

“Go to your room, son.”

And there I would wait;

fifteen minutes later, he would follow,

strip his belt from the loops and

wail away to my chorus of,

It didn’t really hurt,

just sounded like it did.

the doubled belt snapped,

and my dad’s booming voice

created a whirlwind of chaos,

”Don’t you ever!”

"I won't do it any more! 

I won't do it any more!" 

He never left a bruise,

and never figured it out.

All I ever needed was…

why...

I should stay off that of lumber,

not climb out on the roof

not play with fire,

throw rocks at my friend,

stay up too late,

or slide my hand between

the buttons of Becky’s blouse.

I did them all, sometimes I got caught.

Sometimes I didn’t.

The white robes my folks hoped I’d wear

are tie-dyed rags with the stains of

some really good times.

Copyright

Vol Lindsey

10/29/2008

Reviews

[Lorry]

All parents want better for their kids than they had, but my how times have changed when discipline now means taking away their computer games that are the only things that s**t them up long enough for their parents to get any peace.
Perhaps we should have aimed for some middle ground instead of the complete opposite.
We never did quite live up to our parents expectations, but done not too bad, considering.

[Vol]

When I began my teaching career, paddling was the standard for maintaining discipline. I was able to paddle in front of the class. In the years before it was banned, I had to give one lick to one student per class... every year, and usually within the first two weeks of the year... When March rolled around and people got out of hand, all I had to do was say, "You guys need to get back to work."... "Yes sir, Mr. Lindsey."

[Carola]

hi vol, i can certainly relate your poem & to the naughtiness of childhood.
I was always in trouble, & being the oldest I got blamed for my sister's wrongdoings, but my dad used a cane not a belt. i think corporal punishment was anger release for him.
i think many parents worked as a team, I could never play-off one parent against the other.
in the end I used to do what I felt like if I thought it was worth a whacking.
cheerio carola

[Vol]

I was NEVER struck in anger. My father always made me go to my room and wait while he figured out whether I had done something harmful, or had just made him angry.

[Carola]

my sister & i agreed that our parents viewed us as annoying appendages, certainly in our teenage years. yet she had a better relationship with both, many, many years later after my father remarried & his very young new wife (younger than me!) told him he'd not been a good father he apologised & we appreciated each other. he died 11 years ago & i'm still in touch with his wife, a terrific person.

[Vol]

AH! A happy ending! I was very fortunate to have parents who never held back on love... We always knew!

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

Sounds like a full life lived and one worthy of those scars and bruises. We can never live up to our parents expectations and when we grow old and have children of our own we learn why. I enjoyed this poem of yours. Thank you for sharing your work with us.

[Vol]

Thank you for taking the time to respond I appreciate your thoughts.

[room10]

Vol Lindsey, there is regret. Life is full of regret. I get this in the poem, prose. A life of empowerment from a father who wishes you to be virtue. Yet, in the end your woman's blouse opesn, and your virtue is at hand. Father, alway, wishes virtue. I faint. Loki Patel

[Vol]

Thank you for saying so... My father said of me, becaus I wrote a poem he liked, "He has a beautiful mind."

[jacob erin-cilberto]

reminds me of my dad...I know my mom wanted me to be the young innocent, and my dad did the discipline...a team...
I often wondered why...but never said such..."because I said so" went a long way in our house.
in the later years, I teased them about that...
that is when it reversed and I was taking care of them.
This is a really good poem, reminds me of Robert Creeley.
j.

[Vol]

Mine were a team as well... my mom the brains, my dad the brawn, There was great love at the core of my family for all my life.

[Samuel Dickens]

Well, it looks like we weren't very different. Corporal punishment used to be the way, but I know it doesn't work on everyone. It seems you had parents who cared, at least. I can't quit thinking about Becky's blouse.

[Vol]

And none of us went on to shoot things up..."

[willweb]

I think I have one of those robes too, as a matter of fact I know I have several because I have worn out so many. Yep, this poem speaks to me like it knows me. (And I think it does)

[Vol]

Mine's not getting any cleaner... I'm 73 and my mom still gets on to me... rightfully so.