Childhood

brown wooden armchair on brown wooden floor
Photo by Marcelo Jaboo on Pexels.com

 

CHILDHOOD

Chair in the corner of the dining room,

and Daddy sitting in it, and only the orange glow from the ashes,

and gray puffs of smoke,

gave any signal of human presence.

Otherwise it was just the darkness and a chair in the corner,

otherwise it was just daddy in the dark and all alone.

I watched the firelight from the cigarette, as a child,

and wondered why the night was so black,

and why Daddy was so alone, and why voices rang out in the night.

I thought of Mama in the next room sleeping,

and I wondered why I was so small, and why Mama and Daddy never laughed.

And I felt like the night, cold,

and like Daddy,

and like Mama.

so all alone.

Copyright 2019, Jenny W. Andrews

 

My poetry book “Life at the End of the Rainbow” is currently available at Amazon/Kindle. I would love to hear any feedback about my poetry. Thanks.

-Jenny

 

Published by

jennygracespoetryandcreativewritingtechniques

I am a published poet and short story writer. I have been published in SNHU's the penmen review. https://penmenreview.com/author/jenny-andrews is the link where you can find my poetry and a short story. Previously, I self-published my novel "Bully Another Day," "Short Stories and Vignettes", and a poetry book "Spaces between the Pause" on Amazon/Kindle. Due to abysmal interest in my self-publishing venture, I have unpublished those three projects, as well as my poetry book "Life at the End of the Rainbow." However, I plan to be more aggressive in trying to find a traditional publisher for these projects.

17 thoughts on “Childhood”

  1. This is lovely and heartbreaking at the same time. I can see the little girl with silent tears standing in the dark. Great imagery and emotion.

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      1. I understand. Much of my writing over the years has been my therapy. Write what you can when you can. Your stories aren’t going anywhere, so there’s no need to rush.

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  6. interesting and many emotions rapped together. at the beginning, I sensed, but was not completely sure, that the orange glow from the ashes and gray puffs of smoke indicated cigarette, until I read how you actually watched the firelight from the cigarette; then, I said aha, I was correct but wondered why a question mark lingered a bit, earlier on

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    1. Thank you for reading. The poem is from a snippet of memory I had when I was really young. Maybe three or younger. I have questioned my memory of that moment. . .but, I remember it, the sharp image. I love poetry for this reason-that memories can be captured in a few words, the sharp images that linger long after the event occurred. . .

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      1. then, you’ve had a strong memory… from my experience, many don’t remember details at such a young age, especially in a way that can be expressed in such a captivating manner

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