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Dearest Mother

The sun raced the other way
as you chased us
through our tiny green pastures
to spare us from
the hand of that bottle.

I never asked why we stopped running,
returned to keep those pastures;
why we plowed those fields with our souls
so we could plant new seedlings each season
to watch them wither and die because the bottle
wouldn’t share the rain.

I didn’t ask why your hands never sat on my head
like a stocking cap protecting my ears
from the blizzards wintered from that bottle.

I never asked,
but began to wonder,
as my body argued with the age of 13,
who you were when you refused to let
that bottle penetrate you;
threw it down the hall,
bouncing wildly as a ball
played in a game of jacks
that found rest under my sheets,
like a sailor on shore
spent from huffing and puffing
his kerosene breath on a $3 whore.

I never asked
why you wouldn’t hold my hand
as we blessed your god
for the bounty before us
when the dirt ate my friends,
ate my family;
why you excused yourself from the table,
as I prepared myself to be the final course;
why you wouldn’t even put
the leftovers into the ice box
when the dirt spit me out.

I never asked for your hand
this most recent day
when the demons
(or perhaps they were angels,
I could never tell the difference)
marched like soldiers at war
until they wore a trail so deep
the dirt could swallow me whole.

For I knew,
the Mother of my Pain,
had caught his disease.
I thought about caring for those open soars
on the skin of your spirit, but you deserve them
just as much as I.

Dearest Mother,
my final meal has my belly stuffed
like that of pagan calves offered in sacrifice
after gorging on the hand
that was meant to feed me.
But I am thirsty, parched
in the dry heat of my years.
That bottle that you,
with grace and dignity,
gifted to me, sits here on the table

full

of all the words
I never asked.

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing stage: 

Comments

this is very impressive, and very sad piece.
I thought the opening few lines are really Wow, and so is the ending.
Sometimes there was an intended ambiguity and this is understandable for what seems to be a personal experience.
Memories are not always happy, are they?
Take care scott.

❤❤❤❤❤❤

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
........Robert Frost☺

Please follow me on Instagram
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As always it is good to hear from you. No, ma'am, i don't have a lot of happy memories from my youth and those I do have are often clouded.

I didn't intend to be ambiguous, but rather, to just use imagery to tell the tale. I would like to request a favor, if I may. Can we hold a one-on-one workshop here on this poem. I know people have a hard time understanding my words. I don't always like that. But they also don't seem to understand that I need to know how they interpret the words I've written so I know how to better present my images.

What do you say? you game? We can do it through pm or skype if you are more comfortable that way.

Thanks,

Scott

author comment

I'd like to take the adventure though I can't guarantee the results. It's an adventure as I said. I prefer to do it via pm or direct in this thread. Whatever you like.

BTW, your wife and my husband seem to share same thoughts Lol

❤❤❤❤❤❤

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
........Robert Frost☺

Please follow me on Instagram
https://instagram.com/poetry.jo?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=

Here is fine. My soul is naked to the world.

Thanks

Scott

author comment

I can help Scott?

❤❤❤❤❤❤

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
........Robert Frost☺

Please follow me on Instagram
https://instagram.com/poetry.jo?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=

Please give me your interpretation of each stanza.

Thanks

Scott

author comment

The bottle threw me a bit but I became use to it, but maybe I am reading it wrong.
We give to some here, a tiny box decorated with pretty pretties, though empty of all visible things we fill it with love simple but a lovely gift.
Your bottle well seems full of things not spoken of but the things that causes problems within a family.
Loved all the other words though,
Yours Ian..

.
Give critique to help keep Neopoet great.
Unconditional love to you all.
"Learn to love yourself first"
Yours as always, Ian.T, Sparrow, and Yenti

Kind sir. Thank you for always being there for review.

The bottle is alcohol. Let me know if that helps you read the piece.

Thanks,

Scott

author comment

I guessed that the bottle may be drink, and as always a substitute for so many things can never be found in one of those bottles.
There are so many children and many grown ups where this creature is used as a substitute for proper feelings, I can only guess at the effect it will have and my present wife has been through the mill due to this and loads of other things.
I am so sorry I can only talk about it without the fact of actually being subject to this horror.
Your Poem is great, and I thought it a biography, but I can only sit and be an observer.
I am at a loss to know what to say other than thank you for your words on this subject,
Take care and know we walk with you here and always,
Yours, Ian.

.
Give critique to help keep Neopoet great.
Unconditional love to you all.
"Learn to love yourself first"
Yours as always, Ian.T, Sparrow, and Yenti

here I am dear Scott. Sorry I couldn't do it last night as it was very late here. as for the first stanza: 

"The sun raced the other way
as you chased us
through our tiny green pastures
to spare us from
the hand of that bottle."

as I understand this, the speaker (whether the author or not) thinks that the day was dying/setting down on the green pastures (which could be a symbol of young age/ lack of experience,) to save them from ( alcohol)

Ps.I wasn't 100% sure about the bottle thing, but your comment to Ian assured it.

How far I am?

❤❤❤❤❤❤

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
........Robert Frost☺

Please follow me on Instagram
https://instagram.com/poetry.jo?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=

I thought I'd give my interpretation of stanzas one at a time. If you prefer them all at once please let me know.

❤❤❤❤❤❤

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
........Robert Frost☺

Please follow me on Instagram
https://instagram.com/poetry.jo?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=

Sorry, I had posted a comment to yours quite a while back. I guess it didn't go through.

You are spot on.

Thanks

Scott

author comment

For being such an owl lately

❤❤❤❤❤❤

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
........Robert Frost☺

Please follow me on Instagram
https://instagram.com/poetry.jo?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=

no worries. I have been gone longer.

Scott

author comment

Just would like to make I got it right
the pastures plowed do they represent the children's lives who need care to grow just like the seeds that grow to bloom later on?
And what is that the rain and the bottle don't share?

It must be the poison in the wine that kills the drinker's soul and subsequently those who are around him - unlike the rain.

❤❤❤❤❤❤

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
........Robert Frost☺

Please follow me on Instagram
https://instagram.com/poetry.jo?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=

Yes to the children. The bottle won't share the rain, in other words, won't allow what the children need to grow

Thanks

Scott

author comment

in this case, I thought it is a bit confusing /not clear. Maybe a re paraphrase or adding maybe
because the bottle wouldn't share the rain [ its/ the grace ]

only a thought.

❤❤❤❤❤❤

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
........Robert Frost☺

Please follow me on Instagram
https://instagram.com/poetry.jo?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=

is a grace. I like everything about it.

Stanza 4
I don't have either any problem with it till the last three lines. The image is quite clear but I thought there ia a more subtle message that I couldn't read.

❤❤❤❤❤❤

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
........Robert Frost☺

Please follow me on Instagram
https://instagram.com/poetry.jo?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=

There is a reason for the vagueness

Scott

author comment

are very brutal and harsh in its honesty. I should make any bad parents think twice before hurting their kid.

❤❤❤❤❤❤

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
........Robert Frost☺

Please follow me on Instagram
https://instagram.com/poetry.jo?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=

The capitalization of mother and pain is a bit confusing. Is it to emphasize their importance?
Also there are many pronouns there.
the line
"had caught his disease"... what does "his" refer back to?

Here in three lines you have three pronouns.
I don't think the reader who seeks enjoyment would spend much time giving guesses. Again just my opinion, it shouldn't be right.

❤❤❤❤❤❤

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
........Robert Frost☺

Please follow me on Instagram
https://instagram.com/poetry.jo?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=

Agreed. I will work on that

Scott

author comment

is a sublime . I loved the images and the language use.
The only nit is separating the word "full" though I can understand why you chose to do so.
I won't change a thing here.

❤❤❤❤❤❤

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
........Robert Frost☺

Please follow me on Instagram
https://instagram.com/poetry.jo?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=

Full want definitely separated for effect. It's in direct contrast to the bottle always going empty, it's also to distinguish from what is/was in my bottle

Thanks for all your help on this one. I know it's a tough subject matter

Scott

author comment
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