A Page of Rage

Cherry

By Richard L. Provencher

Wed, 30 Jul 2014
  • 1328 reads
5 comments
 

I heard liquor on his breath

as he stumbled against the door

key scratching the wood

doorway painted with curses

opening and falling down

must be three times before he made

it to our room us kids cowering

be careful dad’s home again

pretending we’re asleep

who wants to be happy when

booze is on the loose

back from another tavern fling

pay-cheque probably

sucked up and the ice box

empty of food in our apt  

screaming will soon begin

thump-thump coming down

the hall mom’s on the loose like

a run-away train knowing they

won’t hit with fists or boots or sticks

just two tongues and afraid

no one will be up to make us kids

breakfast in the morning.

 

 

  

 

Certificate PG
Poem
Poetry - For All Reasons
Surreal

Comments

Submitted by Bee on

Beautifully written, Richard. I heard it all from behind that door and saw it from the children's point of view - not so much worrying about fists, but the fear from the verbal fights and knowing they wouldn't get cared for, along with knowing what to expect right from those first drunken sounds of him getting into the house. I felt it all.

Bee

Submitted by Richard L. Prov... on

Thank you so much for your kind words Bee. Sadly, that was my early years and even though the oldest, cried often because dad was home in such a state. Although dad was one of too many who suffered alcoholism due to the four years he spent in WW 11, it was devasting to a young family. It took 40 years for me to forgive dad and when I did, thankfully he lived another four years so I could savour the forgiveness in my heart while he was alive. Only then did I truly realize I still loved him. To any child in a similar emotion-draining situation, forgive quickly and do not allow the hurt to fester, now wallow in sad memories, since it hurts your psyche more than you realize. Now when I think of dad, only good memories of precious moments fill my mind at almost 72. God bless all ABC writers. 

Richard L. Provencher

Submitted by whyshewrote on

Richard, this poem brought me to tears...my childhood was similar. My grandparents raised me and my grandfather also served in World War II. Though he was never violent, it was still frightening as a child to witness when he was "sick". That's what my Grandma would always say. While reading this, I felt the pain, confusion, and anxiety that a young child would experience.

Submitted by Richard L. Prov... on

Hello 'whyshewrote' --- writing has always been therepeutic for me, especially as I get older. Words are powerful, memories mostly intact,  and yet pain muted over the years. Thank you for sharing your thoughts.

Richard L. Provencher

Submitted by Richard L. Prov... on

Hello 'whyshewrote' --- writing has always been therepeutic for me, especially as I get older. Words are powerful, memories mostly intact,  and yet pain muted over the years. Thank you for sharing your thoughts.

Richard L. Provencher