Friday, September 7, 2012

Frieda's Blue



Mommy’s dead
 She left me and baby Nick
Only milk and bread

Now everybody’s talking
 Like she’s some princess of dread
Mommy’s dead

She put her head in the oven
Baked it like bread
Mommy’s dead.

I wish I can cry
And beat myself red
But I can’t since Nick is crying ahead

Mommy’s dead
So so dead
Locked inside my head.

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7 comments:

  1. Gemma WisemanSeptember 7, 2012 at 5:24 AM

    A very dark blues! That last line is so intimidating, so drenched in horror!

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  2. Kerry O'ConnorSeptember 7, 2012 at 7:10 AM

    I'm sorry that you have suffered a painful loss.

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  3. Sherry Blue SkySeptember 7, 2012 at 10:10 AM

    This packs a powerful punch. It definitely echoes the songs in the prompt.

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  4. SusanSeptember 7, 2012 at 1:09 PM

    Ow! You made your own blues here in the spirit of Barbara Lynn. I've heard that Blues can work out the pain. I sure hope so!

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  5. MarianSeptember 7, 2012 at 6:38 PM

    ooh. whew! wrenching, bluesy for sure. sorry to hear.

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  6. Laurie KolpSeptember 8, 2012 at 8:27 AM

    Wow... dark blues can run rampant in our head.

    ReplyDelete
  7. Susie ClevengerSeptember 8, 2012 at 7:37 PM

    So sad...the blues is music of pain and you have written it powerfully here.

    ReplyDelete

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