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  • April 16th, 2010 | 12:16 AM
30 Poems in 30 Days - SNAPSHOT

My personal challenge for National Poetry Month is to write
a poem a day about the father I have never known.


In the wedding picture they printed
in the newspaper,
now faded black and white,
my mother's smile
is the same smile
I saw
every morning when I woke up and
every night before bed.
It was the smile that
told me she loved me
told me I was her entire world
told me everything was going to be okay.

In the wedding picture they printed
in the newspaper,
torn just a little bit between the two of them,
my father's smile


@copyright Susan Taylor Brown 2010
    All Rights Reserved

It's Poetry Friday and Jules at 7 Imp has the entire round-up of today's poetry posts.
There are so many stories only you can tell.Tell them, please.


( 11 comments — Leave comment )
April 16th, 2010 12:03 pm (UTC)
I look at the wedding pictures of my parents every now and then (they were 16 and 19 when they married) or those pictures from the first years together, to see if I can spot the signs that their relationship wasn't meant to be. (They divorced when I was in first grade, and had been separated a couple of times before that.) I suspect this poem will resonate with many children and teens whose parents have divorced, regardless of the situation.
April 16th, 2010 08:30 pm (UTC)
Thank you, Jeni. It's funny, isn't it, what we can read into a single picture once we know how the story ends?
(Deleted comment)
April 16th, 2010 05:33 pm (UTC)
Thank you, Jone. Yes, I am thinking book, now. I appreciate you reading.
April 16th, 2010 08:34 pm (UTC)
Susan, what a book this would be. It took a lot of courage to even start this journey in poetry. It is so important to put our pain down on paper and then write down our blessings. Keep up the good work. Mary Nida
April 24th, 2010 07:01 am (UTC)
Thank you, Mary. I hope to make a book out of this someday. We'll see what I have when I'm done with the month.
April 16th, 2010 10:21 pm (UTC)
It must be a good memory to remember your mum's smile. I have not seen my mother smile very much if at all. Not even in photos she always looks awkward. So too with my dad. I guess they were happy once but they never showed it. In fact I never saw my mum cry either. I am sure she did. It was like you could not show any emotion at all. That is really sad, because even now I can't get close to my mum or my dad. It just does not feel right the warmth and connection is just not there if it ever was and I guess it has to be. Love and feelings are something you really have to learn from an early age as it is so much harder now but I am trying and I have some beautiful friends to teach me. Too bad it can't be my family. Such a shame.

-Anne McKenna
April 24th, 2010 07:02 am (UTC)
Thanks Anne. I tend to hoard any of the good memories I have like the sweetest of candies. We need to build on those and not the bad ones.
April 17th, 2010 09:31 am (UTC)

Your poem perfectly illustrates why poetry exists, Susan -- it tells so much in a few well-chosen words. Nicely done.

Anne, I found your comment touching. I'm sorry you didn't have the smiles and affection you deserved. Sending you a cyber-hug.
April 24th, 2010 07:03 am (UTC)
Thank you, Tabatha. Your comment touched me.
April 22nd, 2010 05:15 pm (UTC)
tanita says:
I remember looking at my parent's wedding pictures with my sisters. They looked so young -- but what caught me and made me gasp was the naked fear behind my mother's smile. So scared...
April 24th, 2010 07:03 am (UTC)
Re: tanita says:
Oh my, that you could see that fear behind your mother's smile. When I look at my mother's face in that picture I think she really believed in happily-ever-after.
( 11 comments — Leave comment )

Who am I?I was born on the Cancer/Leo cusp and share a birthday with Ernest Hemingway and Robin Williams. The similarities don't stop there as I can go from depressed to ecstatic without ever passing go. I feel scared most of the time though my friends call me brave and I find it easier to believe in my friends than to believe in my own abilities to make what I want out of my life.

Who am I? A wife, a mother, a daughter, and even, gulp, a grandmother.

Who am I? A writer who never gets tired of playing with words, even when the words are hard to find. A writer of books for children and articles for grown-ups and many things in-between.

Who am I? A motivational speaker, writing instructor, workshop leader and full-time follower of dreams.

Who am I? Read and find out.

Susan Taylor Brown

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