By
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It’s not broken. Just needs a coat of paint and some appliance up-grades. Children raised here will not grow crooked backs or necks or morals or hearts. Give them extra birthday presents and they’ll be fine breathing in the dust of our broken dreams and bearing the weight of our renovations.
It’s not broken.
Just needs a coat of paint
and some appliance
up-grades.
Children raised here
will not grow
crooked backs or
necks or
morals or
hearts. Give them
extra birthday presents
and they’ll be fine
breathing in the dust
of our broken dreams
and bearing the
weight
of our renovations.
I’d love to see a longer version of this. You crack open some big issues and could really dive in. This is great, Melody.
Thanks Rob. I will think about a re-write…. This is an issue I can get pretty passionate about, the way we are so cavalier with our little ones when it comes to our own selfish issues.
; ^ )
Great poem Melody, it gives so much to think about.
Unfortunately our adult problems impact our children far more deeply than we can ever see on the surface. It’s time to stand up for our children!!
Sad when parents think they can buy their kids with material things. It’s their parent time & attention that they need. I see this too close to me all the time & it makes me sad. I’ve even said my peace – but – what do I know?
That’s how I feel, too. I guess we live well in our own little corner, raising our babies to be well-loved and satisfied with the things that are truly important – and contribute in little ways where ever we can. I like to think that I give my little students a good piece of myself, and hope that it makes a difference for those who really need it.
What a picture to bring the message home!
I knew as soon as I saw it that it would make some good poetic fodder. I’m afraid there are a lot of ‘broken homes’ around…
Wow, this is ouchy truth, isn’t it! Great poem, Mel–5-Star!
Thanks! Ouchy is right… but even the ouchy must see the light of day from time to time…
But “sometimes they come back”….
Ick. That they do. To be processed, and re-processed. And eventually thrown on the junkpile. But not before they are honestly acknowledged and struggled over, I’m afraid…
we certainly are houses~ I kept picturing what kind of home am I; what art and music and books are crowding Heavenly things out. Very good subject to turn the lights on in midnight sleepless nights. Faithfully Debbie
Well-said. Beautiful connections here, Debbie. We could all use a little ‘house-cleaning’ from time to time!
A wonderful poem Melody. Sometimes in life it’s easier to destroy than to take the time to fix something with loving care. I can see so many things in this one poem, so many angles.
Things in our society are pretty complex – this is just one angle, one little peek into a broken home, from the outside in. I’m highly gratified that you see some of the potential layers in the ideas behind the seed. Thanks, RPD!
Meanwhile, Melody Muses... 
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