Shattered Dreams

Pull her string,
she will dance for you —
a chaotic whirl of ginger hair,
erotic excitement in overdrive,
sultry glances from hooded eyes
leave a tingle long after
your dollars are gone.

Once, she was a little girl,
eight years old, scrape on knee,
acorn collection, tea parties and
dreams of white dresses and
happily ever after.

Ten years later her
mother quietly crops
her out of family photos.

Written for Shawna’s Monday Word Prompt. Words to include were: tingle, scrape, eight, ginger, chaotic, string, hood, acorn,  hair, crop

Posted to the Imaginary Garden.

Posted to the Poets United Poetry Pantry

Posted to dVerse Poets Open Link Night.

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25 Comments

Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts

25 responses to “Shattered Dreams

  1. Oh, this was sad, Mark. I wonder what all she did to deserve cropping; and I wonder if she will return and leave the mother with regret. Things may change ‘back’ again after those turbulent teen years; and cropped pictures cannot later be uncropped.

  2. Shawna

    I love what you did with the words, Mark. So creative, and of course your endings are always magic. I like the momentarily misleading opening, a striptease in itself.

    “hooded eyes” … boy does this say a lot.

    Loved the acorn collection; great use of the word and such a nice reminiscent touch of childhood dreams and innocence. I wonder whose dreams are shattered: mommy’s, daughter’s, or both. And why. Funny how Daddy isn’t mentioned; I’d guess he has something to do with the shattered dreams.

  3. What a tale.. I like how you weave it all together yet left it to us to wonder why ~

  4. Oh such a poignant tale. I love your description of her as an eight year old. Little girls are a delight – the heartaches come later.

  5. hedgewitch

    Very creative take on the list–I was just working with it and it took me also in a dark direction, which is odd–the words are rather innocent, and the innocence where this begins contrasted with the finish is what is so devastating.

  6. You used cropped much more powerfully than I did. Lovely piece. So fun to see what everyone is doing with these words.

  7. Such a sad poem, but it really does point out that we all start out with those innocent little girl dreams. Makes it hard to understand how she got to be where she is.

  8. Oh, Mark. This is heartbreaking, and poignant. And here again, the words are effortlessly woven in. “chaotic whirl of ginger hair”…I can see this, so vividly. Beautiful, and sad.

  9. ugh, this one turns my stomach a bit…she was a little girls once, and somehow she took another road and the family just turned away…sad.

  10. well well well…reminds me of Fancy 😉 Love this, Mark and you used the words nicely. WIsh I had seen this bank! 😦 I miss them somehow…always a day late and a dollar short! lol!

  11. Laurie Kolp

    Oh, wow… this is powerful, Mark.

  12. Powerful poem! the cropping out from photos is a great ending. It may be even stronger without the word “quietly”, just a thought.

    • I think you are right. I was going for the feeling that she was just matter of factly going about her business, but it does appear to be a useless adverb. Thanks for the input.

  13. Whoa…so cool. Nicely done.

  14. shattered dreams indeed – poignant and compelling work Mark, nicely done

    http://thepoet-tree-house.blogspot.com/2012/03/fog-at-dusk-is-crowded.html

  15. What a sad tapestry you wove from that pile of words, wow.

  16. For some of the men, this tale is beyond
    poignant, and it is enough to make us
    pause at the door to the club.

  17. that ending is harsh and bitter!!! really punches you out!

    four animal dedication senryu

  18. If I’d paid more attention to the title I wouldn’t have been so surprised at the direction this takes. Sad commentary on a life. I’m not a mother, but I don’t think I could ever cut my child out of my life. I’d have to hold on to hope. In a way, for me, that was the saddest line of all.

  19. It is very touching. Wonderfully written.

  20. It is just too beautiful.

Some of what I write is true, some is fiction; most is merely possibility.

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