A Comforting Buddy

A spring-like evening breeze 

Percolates each empty street 

With faint voices of angels singing 

Sound of fiddle accompanying 

Children's play and gaiety of chase 

 

Eluding us is the child next door 

Who's been chained to many a chore  

Being born to the wrong family 

Is kept in strict captivity 

Though fed toxic words and recipes 

Never asks for reason or sympathy 

 

Her feet sunk into filthy mud 

Her lips tightly bit in blood 

Foaming soap washes not her grudge 

As she scrubs the abhorrent tub 

 

Her eyes focused on a nearby fly 

Wings straddled on a water puddle 

Keep flapping amidst its lasting struggle

“Hi buddy!” return her smiley dimples  

Reviews

[Travis Gibson (poetic h..]

Excellent piece, considering the heaviness of the subject. The parallel you draw between her plight and the fly's was a sophisticated one. Though it seems to lighten the tone. It instantly gives these aforementioned lines more depth of meaning, "though fed toxic words or recipes/never asks for reason or sympathy". Thank you for inviting me to this one!

[Louisa Chan]

Thank you for stopping by Travis.
I really appreciate it.
Have a good afternoon!
L

[William Michael Reeves]

I always like it when a serious subject, the tragedy, has a touch of comedy on top of it. Your end created a touching moment that alleviated the tension built in the body of your poem. I wanted to think you were writing of struggles on the other side of the planet but those struggles are everywhere.

[Chris Shaw]

She recognised the struggle of another fighting to survive. This child and the fly had something in common.. A really touching write. I enjoyed the read. Pleased to meet you.

So many do not have a beautiful childhood.

Chris

[Fabian G. Franklin]

I really enjoyed reading this. I see the allusion between the child next door and the struggling fly. But certainly she is worthy of more notice than a bothersome insect. I also think a good many children have been kept in strict captivity due to the recent pandemic. It's not healthy but neither is lying in a hospital bed on a ventilator. Kids need social interaction. They need protection, guidance and education as well. I had plenty of chores myself as a kid but hard work was required of us all (there were 10 of us and I was the youngest) to survive. I was taught to only speak when I was spoken to in adult company and to have respect for all my siblings and elders. I was the bottom rung of the totem pole. But my parents were kind and good to me. They yelled at me on occasion and whipped me on occasion but this was the standard of normality in the early sixties. Teachers still doled out corporal punishment in schools and talking out of turn in class might earn a child a few strikes with a paddle on the behind from the teacher. Our teachers demanded our respect and got it. We weren't allowed to play in mud. The only time we were allowed to get dirty was in our work clothes in the fields and gardens. But we had fun too...so much fun. We played in creeks and swimming holes. We hiked in woods and meadows. We fished, camped and had cookouts in our backyard where we roasted hotdogs and marshmallows. We rode our bicycles until the streetlamps came on; carved slingshots, caught all sorts of wild animals (which our parents made us release) and generally spent most of our time outdoors and out from underfoot. Our mother was a saint who worked from before daybreak to well after dusk keeping our home spotless and our laundry washed. Dad worked two jobs and wasn't often in a good mood but he was neither a lecher, drunkard or gambler so things might have been far worse. Interesting piece that makes one wonder what sort of lives we might have had with different parents or born into a different social strata. I enjoyed the read. F.