Gripping

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    Poem Commentary

    This poem is about an important event that i have NEVER forgotten in my life. This incident is a story in of itself and i felt that to enventually free myself of the very difficult pain it caused me, it had to be written.

    Gripping


    It started out a normal day,
    Just another summer night in Downtown L.A,
    There was 1, 2, 3, no 9 kids at play,
    We were playing monoply when my mother decided to meet some guy with game across the street,
    Way across the street at the water and power plant,
    Where mom went from giant towering mother to small ant,
    Her threat was stern, "Reggie, dont do anything funny here, youre the oldest, I expect you to watch them,
    "Sure Melissa I'll watch them",
    "You'd better or ill whip your ass,"
    "Melissa I said I would," "Hey! I dont wanna hear no sass,"
    "Yes mam" He retorted,

    But, how ugly would this story get reported,
    We did just fine, Till Reggie got ideas,
    Our lights went out, "uh oh" we said, a unity of fears,
    So Reggie took out his lighter, despite my mothers stern warning,
    Lets play just once, he said,
    He swirled the lighter on the rug as it bled,
    A flicker of light in a rainbow shape,
    A few more times with the wind blowing against the curtains like a huge cape,
    "Ha ha", he said, "your mom didnt see, I got a way hee hee",
    I was as delighted to see the fire as I was terrified that he lit it up on the rug,
    Soon I would recieve nothing close to a hug,

    My brother, my wee little 4 year old brother,
    Decided to have the mother,
    Of all apartment fireworks,
    He rolled the lighter in circles around himnself over and over,
    Reggie meanwhile paid him no mind, like a lonely day in october,
    Till My mother saw from wee far away,
    Yes the small ant saw right away,
    Uh oh I thought, we knew we were going to get it,
    We ruined her game, or should I say that mans game and plan to charm my mother into her pants,
    Later, you could hear the agonizing rants,

    But at that point, Mother came back in,
    Everyone got ass whippings from within,
    Kids who did no wrong got their lickings,
    Old school my mother went with the hittins,
    "Who was playin with the fire?", we all pointed at Reggie and the wee little Brother of mine whose name shall not be said,
    Boy did my mother turn red,
    She let Reggie have it till he ran out,
    "Im tellin my mama", hed shout,
    And so all the kids left until there were two,
    Me and the little one whod suffer a pain greater than any whipping between me and you,

    My mother decided she would teach us a lesson, a lesson I thought sadistic,
    What is this womans problem, shes beyond realistic,
    She took us both to the stove, thinking shed show us,
    With everything I had I resisted, because you see I was first,
    So you like to play with fire huh, dont play with fire no more you hear? YOU HEAR, YOU HEAR?
    Forget terror, this was beyond all fear,

    I couldnt believe she was putting my hand to the stove,
    All 4 made it except one into the burning grove,
    My thumb, my six year old thumb didnt make it,
    It went right in and I screamed, couldnt fake it,
    Wailed, did all I could,
    Amazingly it pays to knock on wood,
    I felt no pain, Not a single ounce,
    But the emotional scars still hold and trounce,
    Into me, because what was next was unspeakable,
    The little 4 year old suffered the unthinkable,

    You see all 4 of his right fingers suffered the blow of the flame,
    He literally fried, And screamed a scream no one, man, woman, or child should have to hear,
    All I could do was watch in utter terror, shame and fear,
    And he cried and cried and cried,
    She ordered us to bed,
    And he cried himself to sleep,
    As his brother I cried with him,
    And held him, It was all I knew to do,
    I just didnt want to see him suffer, but how else could I make do,
    I was no more helpless than him, we were no match from the woman from hell,
    He suffered a fate he should not have, All I wanted to do was make him well....

    Now my mother isnt insane as she was then,
    But the pain lives in me again and again,
    Even though I think about it once every 5 or 6 years it wells right up,
    And hate fills my heart when I remember his pain, his suffering,
    I honestly feel he is still recovering,
    He says all is forgiven and his wound has healed,
    Perhaps so, im still not thrilled,
    Because im the one who has forgiven but cannot forget,
    So much so that it forces me still, with sadness and regret.

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    Sydney commented on Gripping

    05-26-2010

    this is a great poem. i can understand how you feel on that. i never experianced it but i heard stories and seen kids have burns. one class mate had a burn on his face from an iron. Sydney

    janetdawson commented on Gripping

    05-14-2009

    it bought me to tears...truly amazing.

    optimistic commented on Gripping

    05-13-2009

    Excellent poem what and crazy story wow unbelievable.

    Poetry comes nearer to vital truth than history.

    Plato (BC 427-BC 347) Greek philosopher.

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