Inspired By This Week’s Prompt: “Curfew”

Have you raised a teenager? Been one? Try to smother passion of any kind…just try.

Curfew*

Put a lid on it.

Suffocate the flame,

stopper the heat  coursing through tender

loins. It’s a slow burn, now,

a low growl,

tiny howl seeping through cracks,

twisting and bending

away from the hearth

you guard.

It won’t set fire to your straw house

tonight. But approached too soon, the lid blisters your fingers back.

It chills your touch come morning. And night after night,

the scent of curled ache whimpers,

lingers and

darkens your walls,

cumulative.

 

*originally, a fire-cover, covering of fires, time for putting out fires (Skeat, Rev. Walter W., Litt.D;, LL.D., D.C.L., Ph.D., A Concise Etymological Dictionary of the English Language. New York: Capricorn Books, 1963.)

 

Now, where’s YOUR response to this week’s prompt? Post a link in the comment section to connect us with your creation…

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4 Responses

  1. You’ve really captured the spirit of parenting a passionate child, along with a clear description of the feelings of the child as well. I love the end, which seems to refer to the intangible energies which build within spaces over time; also the way you’ve used fire to convey the emotions involved. I clearly remember the period between age 12-17, and how infuriated, crushed, and utterly devastated I’d felt when my parents curtailed any social, creative, or financial impulses I attempted to act on. It seemed at the time I’d suffered the most severe form of oppression: suppression of the human spirit (I still feel this way at times!) In retrospect, the inhibitions placed upon me were highly beneficial to my survival, and caused me to spend countless hours alone in my room, reading and writing. If it weren’t for my passions being bridled, I never would have discovered the outlet of writing. Thanks, Mom! And, Thank You Bonnie, for sharing!!

    This isn’t what I originally wrote in response to the prompt, but something I wrote about a year ago, which I feel more accurately fits the form.

    In my mind, this represents years of highly creative and divinely inspired conversation, story telling, and song writing with my father and brother as we entertained ourselves on the four hour drive between Bloomington and Chicago, taken every other weekend to my dad’s house throughout my childhood. Gulp, here goes!

    https://www.facebook.com/notes/michelle-johnson/dangling-from-the-old-mans-rearview/10150157356488722

    • Thank you for commenting, Michelle; whatever you felt during your teen years, it’s clear that your passions “seeped” their way through the cracks and found an outlet, and you’ve developed that talent. I’ve left a comment in the comments under your poem. Thank you for sharing!

  2. love the stopper the heat coursing through tender loins.

    • Thank you, Bolton – that “tender loins” bit caught me off guard – I didn’t even see the play on words until I’d finished the first draft and read it all the way through.

      And feel free to share a link to a piece of your own!

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