Half Painted Exterior

This poem is a sestina, in which the last words of the first 6 stanzas are repeated in a restricted pattern. In my case, I had chosen my six words randomly, drawn out of a collection of many words

Each morning began with a half empty bowl of rice,

Which I despised and fed the yellow ducklings outside the cabin,

Lying to my sweet mother whom I hoped won’t spot me from the kitchen.

Following the shimmering sun rays to the front of the cabin, I said goodbye to my father who is a cop.

I enter the house, admiring, the wooden door, specially my colorful artwork on the exterior.

Bike to school on a muddy road was next, with a final attempt, for the history test to memorize by heart, each date.

 

Never ever had I been on any date,

All treated me like dumped away stinking, spoiled rice.

Nobody ever chooses to look beyond the exterior.

I was more than a poor girl, living far in the green woods, in a wooden cabin.

Or maybe they were only scared because my father was a cop,

Or unlike other business mums, mine worked in the kitchen.

 

Why was that so bad? There is love in the kitchen.

The love of ice cream, grapes, chocolate and in the end a yummy date.

And later dinner, after my dad got home from saving the world being a super cop,

Mother would prepare the most delicious meal...not at all like the rice.

And we would laugh at silly things in our lovely cabin.

We were a happy family, but all they saw was a half painted poor, exterior.

 

Only the door was painted on the exterior.

The remaining was a musty brown with a window to the kitchen,

The windows at the back, shed light everywhere inside the homey cabin.

I've been here since I first opened my eyes, but at dawn the sunrise never fails to make me inundate.

The birds would emerge in flocks and sing melodies trice.

I’d sit with my father under the transitioning sky while he read poems from his favorite scop.

 

He told me he was once a poet too, but now he loves being a cop.

As I grew older I saw hints of crushed dreams, but he stood tall smiling always in the exterior.

All people saw was a man who, of the things his daughter wanted dreaded the price.

All people saw was a woman who couldn't afford a better home, from the broken window of the kitchen.

The bills were now often out of date.

Warm suddenly no longer was the homey cabin.

 

Chilly November winds penetrated the broken cabin

Since that day no longer came home, the brave cop.

The one day of which I shall never forget the date

Still all they saw was a poor man who couldn't afford his health care, not a loving father, from the exterior.

A woman stood sobbing, sealed now was the window to the kitchen.

I guess for his crime of being poor, he finally paid the ultimate price.

 

Broken and lonely was the cabin. Everything now was caprice.

When no longer remained that super cop, nothing remained the same, no love in the kitchen.

That solemn day of which, I will never forget the date. For once they were right. There was no joy, interior and exterior.

 

Reviews

[Ashley]

Nice use of inundate, trice and scop. I liked the progression of the story and how it built up a scene.

[Ash]

Thank you!

[JD Hyde]

I have so much to say about this.
I've lived in that cabin.