Poetry, in real life

I’m taking the bunnies off the wall

Grandparents,  I think

Are the last to know

They give baby dolls

Not dolls with boobs

Their laps are replaced

There’s so much more

As it should be

As I knew it would be

Even as I gazed behind the unfocused eyes

Into the tiny souls and gave away my heart

And took on a new identity

I knew someday

I would hug too long

I would smell like old people

I’d ask the wrong questions

And not understand their answers

I knew the bond would wither

(I’ve seen it all before)

Still hoping, this time

It won’t

 

 

 

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10 thoughts on “Poetry, in real life

  1. Don’t quite understand the context of the last line or any subject to it of gravity. “It” is what or who? “won’t” what? [It won’t = the baby will be suspended in time?]

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      1. I like them both. Some of the ambiguity is lost and replaced with sentimentality. The revised is more understandable but lots of poems are hard to digest and must be read several times to get the full impact. The last line works, yes, or you can keep both versions and write another experimental one and keep some of the mystery of the first edition and change the last line to bring it into focus. It is more understandable, yet sentimental and forces one to see the responsibility of a parent. The first one praises the innocence [smell, for instance] of un-aged youth.

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      2. I was thinking about the essence of the poem. It’s about loss of intimacy. The symbiotic bond between: Parents>Mother & Child>Ping back to grandparents [relation, relativity, reflection]. Sub-theme: With distance comes aging. Umbilical cord, growing up, generational. The cycle of life.

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  2. Thanks, Karen. Literally took bunny stickers off the grandkids’ wall and was hit with these thoughts…at 4 and 6 they probably outgrew the nursery theme. Who knows, they may be disappointed to find them gone! And maybe I’m still the cool MawMaw;) One can hope.

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