That fateful day

That fateful day

 

I hear you coming up the stairs

The cause of all my hopes... and fears!

I know for certain what’s in store

My life ripped apart... and what for?

 

So many times, black and blue

Because the abuse, caused by you.

Sometimes scars left, never fade

Every mark you’ve ever made

 

Broken ribs, broken nose

God how many? Cos. Only God knows

Mostly hidden, it must be said.

An NDE, when you left me for dead

 

Not religious in any sense

But I asked him that night, for recompense

Waking up from a coma deep

With blood clots still, in my brain dist. seep.

 

AND

 

Every time without exception

You honestly think, it’s not deception

Saying “Sorry, it will never happen again”

Your guilt is equalled, only by my pain.

 

The worst of which, is my self-esteem

That dissolved just like a soft ice-cream

Like the day our child, dropped their cornet

You splattered my blood with a rusty bayonet

 

That wound so deeply thrust inside

Killed our unborn innocent child

So certain was you, it was not yours

A life never lived, such fate was hers.

 

Po

abusechildhoodMonster crueltysadnesswar ptsd.Just another day at work

◄ Dying for your touch

You are in the spotlight ►

Comments

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Various

Wed 19th Aug 2020 21:00

We are all victims one way or another, some worse than others. But not all can elucidate. They just quietly cry when no ones looking. This is a worthy reminder of what is every day life for so many. Good job, one for the book.

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Paul Sayer

Wed 19th Aug 2020 19:30

Keith, I had to revisit this poem today because I have a friend who is 'on the edge' of destruction.

They (THE they) say... Let down by the system (What fucking system!) is what I say.

I wonder if I need some help myself at times.

Seeing these things from the sharp end of the Bayonet, not the dull sanitised version we see censored in our snooze papers and fake news channels keeping the truth and horrors of the so-called survivor's of war hidden in plain sight in our high streets in shop doorways and on our park benches every single day.

I am reminded of that great line from Ralph Mctell's ''Streets of London... "memories fading like the medal ribbons that he wears"

As I know you know Keith, some memories NEVER fade.

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keith jeffries

Mon 20th Jan 2020 14:41

Po,

thank you for replying to my comment and also for your kind words. You are right to say that poetry can be enormously powerful across a range of subjects. Little wonder so many poets find themselves behind bars or worse. As poets we delve into territory avoided by the media and others, we explore the mind and thoughts of people often laying bare the reality for all to see.

Thank you indeed.
Keith

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Paul Sayer

Mon 20th Jan 2020 07:28

Don you said "I've just thought up another acronym SRRC....go figure....

Nope still racking the little grey cells to no avail mate.

You, sir, are also a dark horse who has shown in your support and comments to others and on the ‘park’ a sensitive caring side that often only comes from a life of adversity.

Could you please post that link to the tissue factory.

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Paul Sayer

Mon 20th Jan 2020 07:21

Keith
Thanks so much, you for your kind and considered comments old friend.
You, sir, are an example of what a perfect member of WOL should be, and moreover, one we all should strive to emulate.

I would certainly take a leaf out of your book. Both in a ‘literal’ as a poet, and metaphorical sense as a caring and sensitive soul. Having you at my back is an honour.

Often speaking from an open and frank perspective laying as it were with soft underbelly or Achilles heal exposed. That takes an enormous amount of both strength, and more than the lions share of courage.

I wrote this, as we mostly all do not for praise, but to touch victims at a much deeper level, as it is sadly only when one has experienced such tragedies they can truly relate to and understand the emotions engendered by the words.

All praise to you for having the courage to post your comment, Keith and thank you again.

I have had some very emotional private comments from others here and outside of WOL that has shown me the true power of poetry... and the unfathomable and immense power of the human spirit to both destroy and more importantly to rebuilt.

There is plenty of support for victims of this and other maladies that I have been able to collate a list of numbers and websites to point people towards in their hours of loneliness and darkness
.
Often Keith, as I’m sure you know, empathy, an open ear, and heart are sometimes all we seek.

Po

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Don Matthews

Mon 20th Jan 2020 07:08

As I have said before Keith 'Damage done never forgotten'........

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keith jeffries

Mon 20th Jan 2020 00:51

Masterful. This poem is painful to read as I, along with my brother, were victims of physical abuse. The mental scars refuse to heal. "The worst of which is my self esteem. That dissolved just like a soft ice cream". These two lines ring true as my self confidence and self esteem have never fully recovered from what I went through.

You have addressed a very difficult subject with a profound sense of respect.
Thank you for this
Keith

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Don Matthews

Thu 16th Jan 2020 09:05

Yes Po. The number of poems I see with no comments or likes. I think what's going on?. How disheartening for the effort they've put into creating it. Even if it's not good one could say something. Surely?

I've been looking at new poet profiles and one name keeps popping up with encouragement on a regular basis. The first two letters of the 6th word....

I've just thought up another acronym SRRC....go figure....

😖

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Paul Sayer

Thu 16th Jan 2020 08:51

Hi Tom

I am interested to hear that you had this on your mind, moreover you came back to reread it.

I feel we so often just glance over poems and don't actually stop to absorb the message behind the words.

I will sometimes read a poem several times even the same poem for several days, we all miss so much in our rush rush life.

Stop, Read, reflect. THEN Comment.

One of the sad things about WOL is the lack of support from most of its members, not just to new posters, as I'm certain Tom you would agree.

Thank you for uplifting me with your comments.
Po

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Tom

Fri 10th Jan 2020 15:17

This one has popped into my head on and off all week Po and I've come back a few times to re-read. Powerful writing for sure. Embarrassingly, I had to look up 'NDE' which threw me off the first time I read it. Great and upsetting work.

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Jon Stainsby

Wed 8th Jan 2020 07:23

Very powerful, Po. A wonderful piece about a subject that must not be forgotten.

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Paul Sayer

Tue 7th Jan 2020 13:47

Mika, Do, Vautaw, Robert....

Thank you all for your comments and continued support, not only for this, as you say Robert, 'Dark' intense, black piece. Moreover the motivation, and Vautaw the insight that your comments make in a world that few write about in any great depth.

Still sadly so much goes unsaid... until someone ends up dead.

As was again seen over Christmas, glimpsed on the TV and papers.

... and again local to home almost.

Po

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Vautaw

Tue 7th Jan 2020 02:55

“Your guilt is equaled, only by my pain.” Powerful line, heartbreaking poem. I have published three anthologies about surviving abuse. It’s cathartic to write away pain from the past. Write on Po! 🖤

Do.RoThy

Tue 7th Jan 2020 01:48

Sad but true in many cases.... It couldn't be you....but i think some close fren to you...much suffering n pain.

Excellent poem!!!

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kimberly

Mon 6th Jan 2020 23:49

Heartbreaking and beautifully written.

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Paul Sayer

Mon 6th Jan 2020 22:28

My allegiance is still as ever... to the truth, wherever it can be found.

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Don Matthews

Mon 6th Jan 2020 22:13

I agree with you on:

"I find that poetry removes the everyday dross, the flotsam and flotsam from my mind which otherwise would find a purchase in my mind and remain there".

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Paul Sayer

Mon 6th Jan 2020 22:04

Y O U.... Are also a powerful weapon against the dark forces Don.

I keep you at the top of the store, readily at hand.

You like me can be flippant, seeming not really giving a toss about much... taking the 'much a do about nothing' kind of approach to life.

The real you, the real me, we are not always what people think we are.

Talking to the elder sibling here mate.

Did you know 'The Bard' was a poet BTW.

Po

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Don Matthews

Mon 6th Jan 2020 21:56

Jeez Po.......

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Paul Sayer

Mon 6th Jan 2020 21:56

It is indeed a hard tale Rich.

Thank you for commenting on this.

I sometimes have a poem that just 'drops' in my mind, often whilst driving strangely enough. As was the case with this one, this evening.

I do not always post poems this dark on WOL

There is more than enough darkness in the world without seeing it here I sometimes think.

However having said that... It is literally all in days work.
So its hardly surprising that this kind of poem, this kind of 'Rhyme and reason' is on my mind.

I find that poetry removes the everyday dross, the flotsam and jetsam from my mind which otherwise would find a purchase in my mind and remain there.

Poetry along with meditation are essential weapons in my armoury.
Po

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Rich

Mon 6th Jan 2020 21:26

That's a hard tale, Po.

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