[stylist] Blank verse poem

[KajunCutie926 at aol.com]

Simply beautiful.. I think when our children grow up  we feel the same 
way... I just read this to my sister and she said that's  how she felt watching 
me... so a job well done I'd say.  You immersed the  reader in your words 
and there is not much more we can ask as writers in my  humble opinion..)
Myrna
 
 
In a message dated 11/16/2011 12:23:39 P.M. Central Standard Time,  
bpollpeter at hotmail.com writes:

Hey,

Here's a blank verse poem I wrote a couple of years  ago. This is the
first time I've shared my poetry outside a classroom. It's  not great,
but I like working, and experimenting, with words and  structure.

Once you were my baby sister so full of life.  
A  blessing at Christmas so we named you after joy.  
So pink and  precious, Rachel suited you.  Tiny hands, 
chubby cheeks, bright blue  eyes, I wondered who 
you would be.  I grew up, and forgot about  you.  

My angst, my pain, my life wrapped me in its selfish  folds.  
When I realized you again you were on the brink 
of  womanhood.  A beautiful girl who seemed self possessed.  
I  should have known better, but I played the game 

like everyone  else.  Confidence stands in for fear 
and self-inflicted  criticism.  Your heart 
was wound up in layers of armor.  
A  fragile heart was splintered and torn.  Just like me 
you looked for  identity in a boy.  
I should have seen, I should have guessed.   The same blood 

trickled through our veins.  No longer a baby,  
you faced the world with demons intact.  Solace 
was an  escape.  I know the pattern all too well.  
The chance to love  seeps in our pores.  No one told you 
to love yourself.  No one  praised your independence.  
No one pushed you to capture  dreams.  Least of all me.  

You tied yourself too soon.   You raced to a dream 
ten years too soon.  My baby sister now called  mother 
now called Mrs.  I see you grow quiet, I see you 
shrink  in.  I am sorry for leaving you behind.  
I am sorry your  strength drained before you reached the end.  
Still precious, still  pink, your legacy continues 
with the essence of the girl named after  joy.

Sincerely,
Bridgit Kuenning-Pollpeter
Read my blog  at:
http://blogs.livewellnebraska.com/author/bpollpeter/

"History is  not what happened; history is what was written down."
The Expected One-  Kathleen  McGowan


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