Cautionary Tale

Just a lil' diddy

Her small fingers brushed paint in bold unconscious strokes

Painting her future without knowing of love undying

Picking flowers with a man who was dad, angel, love, accident

He held her firmly on his perfect broad shoulders

Roses open on gush of lust

White carnations, death and dust

Orchids seal unhappy tombs

Women weep in too small rooms

The instant he transformed into that man endearing

One could not catch the instant the light changed

Only that there, in her chest, flutters of what could be

Collided like atoms with what was, reaching for meaning

Poppies grew to meet our toes

Lilies grown to meet God's woes

Freesias stab through rich dark soil

Shining fancies wrapped in foil

Her gnarled fingers scratched experience in bold conscious strokes

Subtle warnings of life not wasted, but not lived

The sparkle in her eye now the light of ages captured

And doled out in precious flowers once picked for him

Flowers held to her quiet chest

Stems so strong to build a nest

Leaves divert the perfect rain

Winds that mask deaths dark refrain

Realization comes late for rendering proper decisions

So life greets the day with a lesson of what could have been

Eating that day with  honey and rice helps to cover

The bitter taste of regret born of living in the shadow of natures flow

Author's Note

Is it Friday yet?

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i find this more than just a little diddy...

to me it speaks of love and lust---of being completely smitten with a Father, but the Father turning into a monster and confusing the one who looks up to him...what side of him will show next...
and it is two poems in one...the second poem feels like the speaker living with the aftermath of the abuse and confusion, still trying to figure out if real love was behind the actions...and whether she can forgive him...
at least that is how this spoke to me...and it moved me greatly.
j.

[Crowley]

Wow...I have received this form a couple people now. May need to revisit. So the first stanza I meant to portray the father relation of a father and younger daughter, the third the father and a little older daughter, the fifth the woman she becomes, and the death in the seventh. The refrains, the growth from girl to woman, the beauty of a woman and the finally the nd and dignity of a woman. I need to relook and see where I have went awry. thanks for the awesome review. You truly do have a great eye and pen!

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I can see that too....what you are saying, But I would not change it...a poem is really good if each individual can come to it and relate in his or her own way...if the message is spelled out too clearly, it is just statement and not really poetry....you did not go awry...we just saw what we saw.

j.

[Crowley]

Ok...it stays.

[barleygirl]

Sometimes people respond to critiques as if a change might be needed. I agree with Jacob completely. When I comment, I don't want a writer to change anything, just trying to show how it hit me. When I get a review that's completely different than anything I was thinking while writing a piece, I love that. It's like teaching me things about my poem I never even knew before *smile*

[Crowley]

I agree unless it makes me look like a perv...lol.

[barleygirl]

Our deep down dirty impressions of you, my friend, are not to be blamed on your writing *wink! wink!*

[Spandan]

"Flowers held to her quiet chest
Stems so strong to build a nest
Leaves divert the perfect rain
Winds that mask deaths dark refrain"

These four lines really caught me. Well written.

[Gypsy Warrior Queen]

Yeah...what Margie said...I think it's the first stanza that trips me up then Im just rolling along in your flowers feeling light headed by the sights

[Crowley]

Thanks Q. You can see me answer to Margie below. I guess I may have missed the mark on this one.

[Gypsy Warrior Queen]

See, I thought so but it's the first stanza...its like she is in love with her dad and then I thought maybe it was a child hood sweetheart growing through the years...but I wasn't sure.

[Crowley]

It’s the role dads play, lover, angel. Too wee ones I don’t think there’s a difference.

[Gypsy Warrior Queen]

I guess it's just the words accident and lust that throw me in my own personal relationship with my daddy or other father figures...for me it's different but hey I got lots of daddy issues and always appreciate poetic license.

[Gypsy Warrior Queen]

see no haterade here!... I just want it to be the best it can be for the masses:)

[Crowley]

No...see what I said to Jacob...that was the intent, and I want to fix it cuz it makes me sad to think that people think its about abuse or pedophilia. I gotta fix it, it was one of my faves and now its just a giant perv show...lol.

[barleygirl]

I honestly cannot conjure up a cohesive storyline in my mind for this one, but I’m just flitting along enjoying your amazing writing. You are one of the few who can hold a ton of assorted images in your head (maybe it’s that hoarding pastime of yours) & you know exactly what bizarre treasure to dig out of your mind-blowing repertoire, to add another point of pizazz to each of your poems. Your train of thought is an uncommon journey & I can’t wait for you to punch my ticket (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[Crowley]

Maybe a bit too cryptic. It’s a woman’s life from childhood to death. The first stays pointing to what dadsshoukd be to little girls, then teenage when the role is more supportive and directional and then middle age and then old age reflection. Thanks for being a great reviewer and friend Margie!!!

[Crowley]

Tell me if what I told Jacob above makes sense, if not, I may have to rethink this one. Sometimes when I get into my zone, only I understand what I am writing...lol.