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Memoirs II (Free verse) by http://mulberryfairy You make me so proud, daughter.
And yet,
it hurts like that time we finished reading
the picture book about Malcom X and Martin Luther King, Jr.
You looked up at me with sober blue eyes
âMommy, Why?â
I knew when I saw your eyes what you meant,
I wiped away the tears rolling down my cheeks
to keep your innocent face dry.
Like that time that I told you the Neo-Naziâs were coming
and who they hate.
You said: âBut Amanda has brown skinâ
and I thought of you and Amanda
squished together into the rotating recliner demanding
âSpin us â make our ride goâ.
You decided to come to the counter demonstration
wearing a pink sign void of political correctness:
âMy best friend has brown skin.â
Up the ladder:
Conversation with a Clock III
Down the ladder:
These things that we bury
Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
Arithmetic Mean: 5.6363635
Posted: July 26, 2003 8:19 PM PDT; Last modified: July 26, 2003 8:19 PM PDTWeighted score: 5.624918 Overall Rank: 2216 Comments:
that's great
seriously it is
Well thanks, does that mean we've made up?
You have an eye for what matters, now can you possibly make these lines sing? Too prosy, too conversational.
I just can't stop thinking about this poem. I really believe you should develop this into a short story. I mean the kids, you know, they're such natural poets. Everything they do is poetry. That last line is so profound because it is a reality. You're was inspired by the love in her itty-bitty soul(for lack of a better word) I want to know the whole story. There's so much scenery here. A protest, a backyard swing. Please write this story. Write it for me, please. I know you can do it, you're in tune.
Thanks for your comments. I am actually working on a series of memoirs about life with my daughter (the poet featured in this story), but they are all still in prosey poetry form. They feature glimpses of the beautiful things I have seen her say and do. She's at the perfect, inquisitive, fairness oriented age of 5 and a half that make her comments absolutely inspiring. Maybe, eventually, I could make it into a story, but I write "poetry" (which you've noticed is more like prose with decent storylines) because I don't have energy with a daughter and a social work job, to make short stories happen.
I know exactly what you mean. My daughter has just turned 6 and listening to her play - the things she says and the way she looks at the world - has to be the one of the most inspirational experiences life has to offer. She is so creative and has something amazing to say about just about anything she encounters. I think it takes the innocence and creativity of a child's mind to reveal some of the most important truths and injustices that society tries to hide from us. It's interesting that you meantion Neo-Nazis in your piece. I'm not a social worker, so call me old-fashioned but I haven't quite got round to teaching her about national socialism yet. Nevertheless, some of her friends are ethnics and the issue of racism was raised, indirectly, during one of our little discussions. She had noticed, through sitting on my lap watching news on the television, that nearly every news featured "bad black people" being arrested. One of her friends from school is African-American and one day, out of the blue, she asked me if Leroy would have to go to jail, too. Holding back the tears, I kissed her gently on the lips and said "One day things will change, my love. One day..."
Yeah, I wouldn't have had to talk about the Neo-Nazi's if they hadn't come to Maine to try to recruit in a poor working class area that was voicing some anti-Somalian refugee sentiment (led by a press released "letter" (manifesto) to the Somalian community from Lewiston's loser of a mayor). This group called "The World Church of the Creator" reserved the armory building in Lewiston, Maine and widely announced their coming to town. Fortunately, the ringleader (who was to be the keynote speaker) got caught a week before the scheduled appearance for trying to put a hit out on a Black judge in Chicago and was arrested without bail. The rest of the recruiting group still came, but few Maine people showed up (about 30 angry young white men, like "forsakenbro", and probably 30 media, the National Guard (just in case), and about 300 counter-demonstrators). Anyway, I heard that they just spouted a bunch of anti-Semitic stuff, which isn't what the haters from Maine came to hear, being more anti-Somalian in orientation. It is sad how kids get the idea from the TV news that Black people are often violent. Just think of all of the white kids in Maine who've never known any Black people and whose only exposure is to Fox news and COPS, "that racist welfare hating crackhunt". That's why all I have are rabbit ears that recieve PBS.
Didn't you find it even remotely odd that the black kid was called Leroy and that I kissed my six year old daughter ON THE LIPS? You're racist. And sick.
I did notice, but I didn't comment on you and your daughter's "touching" moment, did I? "Some of her friends are ethnics" etc. My French Catholic father-in-law is named Leroy, and I, being from the South, never in my life met a Black person named Leroy.
Is it possible you were mistaking the hurt for deep connection?
I mean, deep connection for hurt?
nice poem, true genis work, you should be proud.
Yeah, you are a 'genis' too. Stupid fucking idiot please learn how to spell genius if you are going to even bother putting the effort behind your daft assumptions.
God damn you, i was only trying to be nice. You don't have to bite my fucking head for liking your poetry. Damn it, i'm in abad mood now, so much for being friendly in the dying world.
That comment wasn't from me, "mulberryfairy", it was from Jeremi B. Handrinos, who was having a bad day. I am rarely verbally abusive toward someone offering compliments.
Geez, that was like Schindler's list on Zoloft. Complete forced fiction and ridiculously intentional pointless guilt trap crap. 6
My best friend has no skin, so what, who cares? Really? You? Go march for your guilt trip, because i could give a shit. There are so many more important issues occuring now adays that are more pressing then this shit. So 6.
Are you serious about the forced fiction part? I thought from the comments and the title that you'd know that it was a completely true story- nothing's been added, seriously (though I did leave out the part where the snow melt leaked into her boot and I had to carry her 50 pound self around for an hour while she complained about being cold).
You (or one of your personas) liked the other memoir about my daughter that I put on here, a while back, the story about the drunken harmonica player on the city bus. This poem isn't about a guilt trip, it is about me appreciating my daughter, and I believe that some other people appreciated hearing about her innocence. It is not about a guilt trip, I march based on my conscience- and my conscience covers a lot. Name a more important thing and I promise, if it appealed to my conscience the way it did yours, I was there marching, or going door to door educating, or doing whatever I could do about it (barring monetary contributions). Thanks for your bold comments, if it weren't for your complaints, I wouldn't have known this ever made it in the top 20, though I totally agree with the reason it is(temporarily) #1, people are afraid to give it a low vote, even though their votes are anonymous, because they don't want to seem prejudiced or racist. But I know it is neither best on poemranker or my best work, in case you thought I'd get a big head over it.
I appologize, I'm just bored. And people do do that, often. But i believe you. I look at the planet in 12,000 year increments not 20.
And by know means is this anywhere near the best poem on poemranker. people just feel obligated to give it a high mark so that they won't be labled 'prejudice' you trite hack.
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orange in the fall
white in the winter
And Spring reddens them all.