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by SWPoet Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Poetry · Parenting · #1409938
A mother's muse, the third child she cannot ignore
To my third child

You, not flesh and bone, yet hungry
as an orphan child seeking love
from strangers who smile.

You, begging me to feed you
words, only words, but your insistence
keeps me up at night, like a child afraid of thunder

Only you are afraid of the silence, the still
mind, a mother sidetracked by life,
your older brothers needing me.

You, my youngest, child of my imagination,
an amalgam of three miscarriages, my muse,
you tug at me in the quiet hours, Write, mama, write.

We have a story to tell, mama, come. Sit by me.
Pick up the pen.  You know what to say;
what they need to hear.


You, my angel, my spirited little one,
I write this for you, but now you must sleep.
Rest assured, my child, you will not go unnoticed.





*****************************************************************
Above: the original version 2.
************************************************************************************
If you are reading this for the class, go further.  If not, the following is an exercise on changing the form of a poem to see how it looks different ways.  There's only one change in the wording (thunder instead of dark in line 6). Feel free to vote on which you like the best.  My vote is #2 so I moved it to the top of the page.      ************************************************************************************

(Version 1-left aligned)

to my third child

You, not of flesh and bone,
yet hungry as an orphan child,
seeking love from strangers who smile.

You, begging me to feed you
words, only words, but your insistence
keeps me up at night, like a child afraid of the dark

Only you are afraid of the silence, the still
mind, a mother sidetracked by life,
your older brothers needing me.

You, my youngest, child of my imagination,
an amalgam of three miscarriages, my muse,
you tug at me in the quiet hours, write, mama, write.

We have a story to tell, mama,
come, sit by me and pick up the pen, you know
what you need to say, what they need to hear.


You, my angel, my spirited little one,
I write this for you, but now you must sleep,
rest assured my child, you will not go unnoticed.





***************************************************************************
(Version 3-below-changes in line and stanza length, a few changes in words)

To my third child

You, not flesh and bone,
yet hungry as an orphan
seeking love from strangers
who smile.

You, begging me to feed you
words, only words, but your insistence
keeps me up at night, like a child
afraid of the dark

Only you are afraid of the silence,
the still mind, a mother
sidetracked by life,
your brothers needing me.

You, the child of my imagination,
an amalgam of three miscarriages,
my muse, you tug at me
in the quiet hours, whispering,

Write, mama, write. We have a story to tell,
mama, come, sit by me. Pick up the pen,
you know what you need to say,
what they need to hear.


You, my angel, my spirited little one,
I write this for you, but now you must sleep,
rest assured my child,
you will not go unnoticed.


**********************************************************

Version 4-(below-same as 3 but Left aligned)

To my third child

You, not flesh and bone,
yet hungry as an orphan
seeking love from strangers
who smile.

You, begging me to feed you
words, only words, but your insistence
keeps me up at night, like a child
afraid of the dark

Only you are afraid of the silence,
the still mind, a mother
sidetracked by life,
your brothers needing me.

You, the child of my imagination,
an amalgam of three miscarriages,
my muse, you tug at me
in the quiet hours, whispering,

Write, mama, write. We have a story to tell,
mama, come, sit by me. Pick up the pen,
you know what you need to say,
what they need to hear.


You, my angel, my spirited little one,
I write this for you, but now you must sleep.
Rest assured my child,
you will not go unnoticed.


************************************************************************
My vote is for # 2.  I noticed once I looked at it that there was a pattern in the stanzas that looked almost like a wave length but vertical.  I moved some words around in that poem to make the top stanza fit the pattern of the rest. 
What do you think?

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