Holding on to the past (with Poem: I Have To Ask)
I was looking over my old poetry site, thinking how much some of my older stuff affects me today. The words written may not be as creative or as well-written as my newer stuff is developing into. But the power and emotion behind them. The thoughts were there, and the feelings so rare. Re-reading over them again takes me back the way I felt when i wrote them down. The passion can survive along with the message.
Below is a poem I wrote for my dad years ago, whether that means I wrote it about him with him in mind, or I actually wrote it to give to him, I'm not sure.
I think I wrote it, and showed it to my mom, (the person who used to read everything I wrote back then), and she showed it to him... as a way of saying look what you've caused your daughter to write... hoping it would be a bit of a wake up call.It was written when he was still living in the house.
I really have no recollection of writing it, though when I read it I vaguely see myself in my room, crying.
Anyways he took the only copy of the poem I had, so I really didn't know it existed until last year he showed it to me. He carries it around in his wallet, and I copied it down. We figure it was written around summer of 2002.
Poem: I Have To Ask
How long does it take for a word to lose it’s meaning?
Does ‘sorry’ take back the words you were screaming?
Does it take back all those times I have cried?
Or the feeling of wanting to run and hide?
How long before you actually mean what you say?
How long before you realize it won’t make it okay?
Does it take back the pain, that’s black and blue?
Or if you say it enough, will it someday be true?
How long before I forget the hurtful things you said?
How long before the outcome, is me dead?
How long will it be before you start to see?
I have to ask do your actions reflect your love for me?
Below is a poem I wrote for my dad years ago, whether that means I wrote it about him with him in mind, or I actually wrote it to give to him, I'm not sure.
I think I wrote it, and showed it to my mom, (the person who used to read everything I wrote back then), and she showed it to him... as a way of saying look what you've caused your daughter to write... hoping it would be a bit of a wake up call.It was written when he was still living in the house.
I really have no recollection of writing it, though when I read it I vaguely see myself in my room, crying.
Anyways he took the only copy of the poem I had, so I really didn't know it existed until last year he showed it to me. He carries it around in his wallet, and I copied it down. We figure it was written around summer of 2002.
Poem: I Have To Ask
How long does it take for a word to lose it’s meaning?
Does ‘sorry’ take back the words you were screaming?
Does it take back all those times I have cried?
Or the feeling of wanting to run and hide?
How long before you actually mean what you say?
How long before you realize it won’t make it okay?
Does it take back the pain, that’s black and blue?
Or if you say it enough, will it someday be true?
How long before I forget the hurtful things you said?
How long before the outcome, is me dead?
How long will it be before you start to see?
I have to ask do your actions reflect your love for me?