"I am hearing poetry when awake, dreaming poetry when asleep, breathing poetry with each breath, I am living in a poem."

Sunday, May 29, 2011

A Wolf Waited to Devour

My childhood
was a fairytale
where a wolf
waited to devour,
and witches
spoke spells
to silence
my tongue.

There was
no Prince Charming
in my story
to rescue me
when large hands
pulled me into
the dark.

Evil, fanged and hideous,
gorged on my
blonde haired ,
blue eyed innocence,
leaving bones of fear
to rattle in my chest.

I remained the prey,
chained in my terror
by threats and
drowned kittens
until the beast
grew tired of me
and sought
new innocents
to destroy.

Set free I had
no freedom.
I was locked
inside secrets
until a pen gave
me the key
to open hell’s prison.

Poetry gave the
paralyzed child inside
a voice to speak of
nightmares that were real,
and freedom to come
out of the dark.

©Susie Clevenger 2011


Morning said...

love it,

you remind me of my own childhood experiences.

way to go,
have a fun time at poetry picnic.

Ann LeFlore said...

The stories told to children they bring back memories and wow so vivid the witches and wolfs


charleslmashburn said...

Wonderful story, told very well. I like it, and I'm glad you found your way to the pen and page!

My entry: http://charleslmashburn.wordpress.com/2011/09/04/blood-on-the-moon-2/

Robert Lloyd said...

Susie this poem was simply wonderful. You told a great story with a perfect ending. I love how you mixed fantasy and real life all into showing us just how powerful poetry can be.

Sherry Blue Sky said...

Such good writing, more chilling than the old time fairy tales. Girl children never have an easy time, it seems. I love the ending, where "a pen gave me the key to open hell's prison...and come out of the dark." Brave journey. Brave poem. Way to go!

Kerry O'Connor said...

This is such a chilling tale of lost innocence, and fear bred of victimization. Very potent.

Thank you for responding to the Real Toads Wednesday challenge.

Kay L. Davies said...

Heartbreaking, and all too very often true. My mother-bear instinct rises up at the thought of a child brutalized, and I know I, a fat peaceful old lady, could kill to protect a child.
In some people, the basic save-the-child instinct is either lost or morbidly misshapen.
So well put, so very well told. Thank you.
— K

Kay, Alberta, Canada
An Unfittie's Guide to Adventurous Travel

Ed Pilolla said...

whew. i read this twice, soaked it in. what an amazing piece. my favorite of yours so far easily.

Mary said...

It sounds like a very scary fairytale indeed. But I am heartened by the ending. Poetry indeed does give everyone a needed voice and hopefully a way to still nightmares.

moondustwriter said...

this was well done - it evokes sympathy from the reader as well as a hope
Poetry is a gr8 conduit for expression

© Confessions Of A Laundry Goddess , AllRightsReserved.

Designed by ScreenWritersArena