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Pother; a Pantoum

Now, let us speak of pain my friend
and all its presence once implied;
of how it made my mother bend
the long, sad years before she died.

And all its presence once implied
‘twas more than I could hope to bear.
The long, sad years before she died
all proved the start of scathing wear.

‘Twas more than I could hope to bear,
the rack was ne’ertheless my lot.
All proved the start of scathing wear
when father passed from heart’s fell clot.

The rack was ne’ertheless my lot,
though I would pray for better than.
When father passed from heart’s fell clot
I knew God posed a hurtful plan.

Though I would pray for better than,
my sister wed a man of crime.
I knew God posed a hurtful plan
as mad depression left its grime.

My sister wed a man of crime,
they caught him cringing in a field.
As mad depression left its grime
I knew to folly I would yield.

They caught him cringing in a field.
No help was I to his young heir.
I knew to folly I would yield~
the drink I took to as a dare.

No help was I to his young heir.
All for the best, no doubt, you say.
The drink I took to as a dare
to poison “self” through each bleak day.

All for the best, no doubt, you say,
but you know not the depths I sought;
to poison “self” through each bleak day;
to take my life lest dree the rot.

But you know not the depths I sought.
Three times I risked the life to fail.
To take my life lest dree the rot;
to temporize and thereby quail.

Three times I risked the life to fail.
I wearied of the game at last.
To temporize and thereby quail~
an epitaph deferred aghast.

I wearied of the game at last
to thankfully find love’s rapport.
An epitaph deferred aghast~
a prospect hazard never more.

I thankfully found love’s rapport
to help me from arthritis mend.
A prospect hazard never more~
speak not to me of pain, my friend.

Pother; a heated discussion, debate or argument.
Dree; to suffer, endure.

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Last few words: 
I don't much care for the subject matter here, but sometimes the damn things write themselves and suddenly I'm either sharing too much or whining.
Editing stage: 

Comments

You will be the first to submit as this is a longer form. It is late here ,so I'll hopefully come tomorrow with fresher mind and eyes :).I have submitted mine too, another story of pain. I would be grateful if you dropped it a visit Sir!.

❤❤❤❤❤❤

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

but here I am as I promised.
You caught my breath while reading this till the very last line. This is how I read it and I thanked God that you failed to end Your Life!! I thought this is really horrible. This is too much indeed. I can't imagine how would someone who brings too much joy to others might suffer all this pain. Again I am happy you found the love that saved your life.

I think the form works hand in hand with your story , don't you?

While others might crit. the great amount of pain that wrapped this piece , I find my self craving for more though I am not sure why .

Thanks for sharing

❤❤❤❤❤❤

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

I found this very satisfying to read, the repetitions have a hypnotic effect. It seems very accomplished. I did baulk at 'dree the rot' which seems very obscure, but it has its charm. My only real jolt was arthritis, not sure why but the use of that word seemed out of place, as if the drama had suddenly been reduced to a headache.
kind thoughts
ross

but that's what's going on. It began with a fever of 105 and exploded throughout my body all at once. It is a game changer.

W. H. Snow

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley

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author comment

they say ginger is a good remedy for it, reduces inflammation.

but i knew i would
you are a master

love judy
xxx

'Each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star,
shall draw the Thing as he sees It, for the God of Things as They are.'
(Rudyard Kipling)

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