When Your Parents Cry

by Eimear

Published August 23, 2008

When your parents cry

And here we go again,
the clock’s hands whiz and stop.
I must halt this crazy parade,
I have to give daydreaming up.

The raindrops shine on black windows,
tiny stars running down.
I look out at the day and offer a smile,
the cloudy sky returns a frown.
Faces are blurring, the room is spinning
My cut-out thoughts are just beginning.
Confusion, warm confusion rises like a sea.
I suddenly hold a sleeping baby on my knee--
This baby does not belong to me.

Nightmares are frightening,
but when it happens during daylight
It comforts me like no one else could.
People tell me to stop lying,
but I think I should.
I think imagining things is good.

It’s amazing the things you create
In your muddled teenage mind,
to make yourself immune- to be blind.
To escape from the dreaded reality
of when someone close has to die.
To have something else to think about
when you see your parents cry.

Comments & reviews · 4
SunshineOrange wrote a review Review · Aug 26, 2008

It's good I'll give you that, but there are a few things that jumble it up a little.

You tend to cram in those syllbles especially in stanzas two and three and this messes up the flow of the whole thing. You need to drop a few words, syllables or something to make it fit in with the flow of the rest of the poem.

It was a touching thing to write about, as we have or will all go through this at some time or other. I, for one, am familiar with the situation and it's not nice, so you captured this well throughout.

Happy writing!

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wewinwelose
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wewinwelose commented Comment · Aug 26, 2008

it's really good an i like it...i dont really have any tips other than just keep up the good work and this is a really good poem and it speaks the truth

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Princess
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Princess wrote a review Review · Aug 25, 2008

I loved it!!! you speak the truth and thats what i like about it! it brings emotion and meaning to poetry!

keep it up!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


XOXOXOXO
Emma

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October Girl
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October Girl commented Comment · Aug 24, 2008

Well then..... I liked it :)



The ink in which our lives are inscribed is indelible.
— Helena 'HG' Wells, Warehouse 13