Biographical Poetry posted January 12, 2013 | Chapters: | ...8 9 -10- 11... |
Life was more Brutal (ABAB Quatrains)
A chapter in the book Commentary and Philosophy
The Good Old Days
by Treischel
"Spare the rod, spoil the child"
I got my share of the rod. Today's values, pretty mild. Then...it was "ordained by God". Today, they call it abuse. Back then, dad ruled with a belt. Punishment was the excuse, To leave a corrective welt. Mother wielded a paddle, Or a slap across the face, When a sibling would tattle, To keep us in our place. Teachers used a wooden ruler, Or cracked together two heads. Meted justice was crueler, Colored by blacks, blues and reds. Hope dies, when a hurt child cries. Imprint of fear often stays Reflected in abused eyes. And those where the good old days! |
Childhood writing prompt entry
Writing Prompt Write a rhyming poem about your childhood. It can be good or bad, happy or sad. No more than 20 lines. No free verse. |
Recognized |
As a child, growing up with 4 brothers and two sisters, I often got beaten bloody from my father's belt. It took weeks for the welts to heal. That was considered acceptable back in the 1950's. All those things described here, I personally experienced and more. It caused a hugh identity crisis struggle that took well into my adult life to recover from. Maybe I haven't fully.
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