This post is part of the monthly blog
hop/therapy session known as the
the first Wednesday of each month.
It would be sweet of you to visit at
least a dozen or so new blogs and leave a comment. Your words will be
appreciated.
Co-Hosts:
The
awesome co-hosts for the May 1 posting of the IWSG are Lee
Lowery, Juneta Key, Yvonne Ventresca, and T.
Powell Coltrin!
*****OPTIONAL IWSG Day Question*****
What was an early experience where you learned
that language had power
The first time I learned language had power...
I was ten — I had written a poem...
Specifically, a poem about my mother.
That’s sweet, you might be thinking.
But sadly, no...
I was mad at her. Very mad!
And hurt!!!
But back in those times...
Backtalk and being sassy wasn’t an option...
Because quicker than a paddle smacking a ping pong ball...
Was my mother paddle-smacking my butt.
I also learned at a young age...
That sticking out my tongue and spitting...
Weren’t good ways to communicate either...
Only one **snap** across my calf with father’s belt...
And I never tried those tactics again.
So...
The only safe method to appease my feelings...
Was putting pencil to paper.
And so came this poem:
Her hair is black, her face is
white
Her lips are red, her eyes like
night
The look of death is on her face
When she is near we'll begin the
race
The race for life, the race for death...
Breath deep, for it is your last breath.
Not long after I wrote the poem...
My mother found it when she was cleaning my room.
Bringing it out to me she asked...
“Who is the woman you are referring to?”
That there’s not only power in
words...
But there’s power in a “look.”
To this day...
To this day...
I still write poetry...
Just not that much anymore...
Only during difficult or sad times.
So I guess that’s a good thing.
Not many poems anymore = not many sad or difficult times
What about you?
What early experiences have you had...
That taught you language had power?
Always,
Em-Musing
10 comments:
😂
I am sorry to laugh, but this was great!
It is an amazing thing how words move people and things. I am not sure if I can pinpoint the time I realized words can bring something to life, but I have seen it.
Oh no, she found it? Were you punished for it?
So much for being sneaky and writing it down instead of saying it.
I'm trying to control my laughter. Too bad your mother found your poem :(
I've been there. My difficult relationship with my mother was not helped when she found an unflattering story about a woman who may or may not have been based upon her. So much for writing as a means of release. But I'm still at it. :-)
That's a wonderful poem, even if it you ended up in trouble or feeling guilty about it. It's a lovely way to vent off steam.
I agree. Some looks are more powerful than the actual words.
Can i leaave a comment?
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