Thread: A Mother's Parried Plea (Language)

Like cockroaches
they hide in corners
awaiting sundown
depending on dark
to muddle features
and skew lineups.

The underbelly -
weakness of character
out shined by the glint of Glock
poking from a pocket.

Swearing undying solidarity,
they deposit DNA
on the communal blunt
and bagged forty or pint
until pinball brains tilt
and a moonlit bathed buddy
becomes the best of marks.

"You be my bud
so hand over
your bud, be it liquid or leaf,
but me, I'm no thief
all's fair in the game
and it's never personal
just business transacted
for my personal gain."

Know them for years
share innumerable beers
absorbing spouted vows
they have your back
even as they attack
their empty pockets
proclaiming you a bank
your hard earned cash
becomes their stash;
while your wallet diets
you remain quiet.

I've pled 'til I'm blue
to liberate you
yet you still remain glued
to filth no better
than shit stuck to your shoe.

There'll come a day
you won't be able to sway
their demands upon you,
then what will we do?

Be short of cash
and Glocks will cock
time for them to rock
after a pipe bash or two
crushes skull into goo
and a bevy
of pocketknife plunges
delivered by drunken lunges
create bloodied swiss cheese;
and if their effort doesn't do,
that shiny Glock
will see them through.

These are not your friends
and will cause your end,
so know this you must,
they'll turn us both to dust.

Now where do you care
we be scattered,
for to me
you're all that matters.
I can't let you leave alone
and suggest a barren beach
best to make
our final home.

Salt purifies all.
Let Mother Earth cure
what I could not.

Geesus, this is sad. What a waste of a life. With friends like that, who needs...Very well written. How many mothers go through this sh**?

You make rhyming seem so effortless. Really liked this piece.

I agree with Kevin on this one sweetie. As a mother it goes straight to my heart, I know how you feel and you couldn't have expressed is better.

Hi Lisa. I am not a mother, so I can't say that I can relate to this at all, which means I'm going to focus more on technicalities than anything else.

Overall, I enjoyed this, especially the first half. Sometimes I think you do better if you don't try to rhyme too much, because the second half kind of goes overboard with the rhyming.

I've pled 'til I'm blue
to liberate you
yet you still remained glued
to filth no better
than shit stuck to your shoe.

There'll come a day
you won't be able to sway
their demands upon you,
then what will we do?

Be short of cash
and Glocks will cock
time for them to rock
after a pipe bash or two
crushes skull into goo
and a bevy
of pocketknife plunges
delivered by drunken lunges
create bloodied swiss cheese;
and if their effort doesn't do,
that shiny Glock
will see them through.

These are not your friends
and will cause your end,
so know this you must,
they'll turn us both to dust.

Pretty much everything in this section, IMO, is rhyming overkill. It's especially jarring because the first half of the poem read so well with minimal rhyme. This section is much too moon-and-June for such a serious topic. You've got a solid rhythm here, so I can't complain about that, nor do I have a problem in general with the way in which you're expressing yourself. Just ease up on the rhyme without compromising the rhythm, and then you'll really have something here.

If you decide to revise, I'd love to see the revision. Always keep writing, Lisa, and thank you for sharing.

First, I must apologize for my disgusting delay in replies of late. Real life has me tops on a hit list it would seem. This piece is becoming more and more pertinent and is now of very great importance to me. That said, I humbly plead for your assistance in cleaning it up.

Dear Kevin, I thank you kindly for the nod, sad it is. I believe there are a good deal of Moms out there who encounter this, a lot more than come forward, I'm sure. Nothing worse than airing the dirty laundry for most people. Poets, we're a different breed, bleached sheets snapping in the wind actually bring us solace, sometimes. Truly appreciate the read and your response.


Dear Damien, Knowing how much you dislike rhyme "effortless rhyming" from you is one of the most ultimate compliments I've ever received. Honored you liked, kind sir. And it's great to have you back on the boards.


Dear Cin, Your comment brought the beginning of tears because I know exactly where it comes from. God bless you, Sis, for being there and for being you.


Dear Miss B, How I love thee, I cannot count the ways. I agree, I punked out in the latter half, not so much intentionally, though. I thought writing it would make me feel better, but seeing it in print as I wrote, somehow made it worse, so the ending was kinda rushed and it shows. Too heavy handed with the rhyme in the stanzas you cited, but when you have a sec, could you let me know if any of the lines are worthy to remain, either with or without rhyme, so I have a foundation to build off of? There are certain ones I'd like to keep, but do some slice and dice to limit the rhyme. I know you're busy, so no pressure please, but your input is always so sound and spot on, I value it greatly. Thank you again, your honesty has helped me grow and will continue to do so as long as you continue to venture into my messes.

It's really imperative that I tend to this as soon as possible. Any suggestions would be greatly welcome from anyone who has any ideas. There's a great deal riding on this piece. Thanking you in advance for your understanding and kind reception of this piece.

Blessings and hugs for all,
Lisa

In answer to your request, I should clarify that I don't think the actual wording of any of these lines is bad. They're all salvageable, IMO. We just need to ease up on the rhyming while preserving the excellent rhythm you’ve got going, is all. Let's see if I can illustrate what I mean...

I've pled 'til I'm blue
to liberate you
yet you still remained glued
to filth no better
than shit stuck to your shoe.


could be changed to:

I’ve pleaded and prayed
to liberate you
yet still you are stuck
to filth no better
than shit on the sole
of your brand-name shoe.

Or something like that. I trust in your ability to massage the remaining lines in a similar fashion; just look at the first half of the poem for guidance and you’ll do fine. Anyway, I hope that helps. Happy revising to you!

Massage, lol, more like hack, these hand were made for chopping. I love what you've done, and get what you mean. Your mention of brand-names shoes is genius, kid has about thirty pair of designer sneakers, even two pair or Prada. Go figure. If I can just get two disaster free days to quiet my mind, I'll have at it. Editing is sometimes like amputating limbs for me, once I've become accustomed to a piece, touching it seems almost sacrilegious, this one is still fresh enough to allow a sorely needed nip and tuck. Truly appreciate your time, Miss B, with me mind in a shambles of late, I can't seem to do any decent thinking. Your direction is adored, and I'll post up an edit asap. Please be well, love.

Hugs,
Me