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Micki Peluso

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Member Since: Feb, 2008

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The waif
by Micki Peluso

Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Rated "PG13" by the Author.
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This is a poem describing the fate of the of the poverty-stricken and abused.

She sits each day, a child of five
At the top of broken down stairs
With tattered dress and tearful eyes
And who among us knows or cares?

The rented home is all run down,
Yet her mother insists she wait
Til the five o’clock whistle blows
Down by the old factory gate

Her stomach is never near full
She walks with a rickety gait.
From thin gravy and week old bread
No milk or meat upon her plate

Her life is charted, future set
As sad round eyes reflect her fate
Though happier days may come yet
She’ll never be more than a waif

She marries young, no wedding scene
No sounds of laughter in her life
She puts away her childish dreams
Wrapped within the mantle of wife

At forty, she is too soon old
With lines etched deep upon her face
Destitution spawned this poor soul
Along with poverty’s disgrace

Melancholy saps her powers
Turns and tosses through sleepless nights
And in the early pre-dawn hours
She contemplates her hapless plight

At eighty-four she sits once more
Her tear-lined face exudes despair
Soon death will claim her evermore
And who among us knew or cared?
 

A Writer's Journey

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Reviewed by Connie Faust 11/10/2009
Outstanding! You've told this story well, bringing some enlightenment to readers of how hopelessness takes over a life. Since I began volunteering one day a week at a Pregnancy Care Center, I have met more downtrodden women, who come to the Center for help in providing for their families. It's a real blessing to be able to reach out and extend love and care for them.
You might like a poem I wrote recently called "A Glimpse of Hunger," although it's a sad one, too.
Connie
Reviewed by John Domino 8/9/2009
We have to extend our loving care to others and never stop. Then a few that care will come back to us but it will always be a few. Amen
Reviewed by Barbara Sue 3/31/2009
Hello Micki

This post is so sad and what thoughts are conjured up. Having to grow up at a very young age, knowing sorrow, loneliness, thinking no one cared, wrong decisions as she matured, finally coming full circle once again to sadness,etc..
Reviewed by Regis Auffray 3/28/2009
This is very compelling, Micki; and it is an indictment upon our "modern" society because none of it ought to be so. Thank you. Love and blessings,

Regis
Reviewed by Randall Barfield 3/19/2009
"poverty's disgrace" is certainly the right term! This poem reminds me of those Appalachian photos during the Depression years taken by, I think, Margaret Bourke-White. She's the same one who photographed Gandhi I feel quite sure. Well expressed. :)
Reviewed by Cynthia Buhain-Baello 3/12/2009
Hello Micki,

So sad and heartrending but so vividly written!
Cynthia
Reviewed by Karla Dorman, The StormSpinner 3/11/2009
Micki,

A life, painfully penned - well done.

(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
Reviewed by Sandie May Angel-Joyce 3/11/2009
What a sad life this is!! Well-written, Micki!!

Sandie Angel :o)
Reviewed by Liana Margiva 3/11/2009
EXCELLENT!!!!!!!! Liana Margiva
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