Poem: Touchdown Buddha

[create_destiny]

Assignment: Imagine a room in your family of origin's home. Choose one or two fixtures in that room that metaphorically speak to the energy or the feelings you had as a child or adult in that home. Pay attention to images and language. Be as concise as you can.

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Fat wooden Buddha
pudgy arms reaching up for the sky
giddy with joy next to our small black and white t.v.
in the 1970s

We flicked paper triangles at you
aiming just above your round, bald head
and between your stubby arms
you looked like you'd say, "Touchdown!"

We wrapped you in dish towels
and rocked you to sleep in the rocking chair
night-night, touchdown Buddha
sleep tight, touchdown Buddha

We rubbed your bare belly and made ludicrous wishes
a million dollars
to be invisible
to have all the candy bars in the world!

We'd sneak you into Nativity scenes
where you towered like an absurd Godzilla
RAWR RAWR
we'd knock down Joseph and the wise men while Mary screamed

We stuck a Cheerio in your grin and hid behind the couch
stifling giggles and spurts of urine, anticipating Dad's reaction
(we had to help him notice)
we hoped he wouldn't be mad
but he grinned and picked the cereal out of your mouth

Over the years, through rough-housing and temper-flares
you endured numerous gouges and bore many scars
you lost both your hands but still shine with inexplicable joy
exclaiming to the world, "Touchdown!"

Comments

[nodressrehersal.livejournal.com]

Mommy? There's a bee.....
Nevermind, just hurry up and eat your toast, drink your cocoa.
But Mommy, there's a bee.....
Forget the bee! Eat, or you'll be late for school!
But.....
Eat!

Crossed-eyed and desperate, I try to drink the cocoa while avoiding the fly that keeps floating towards my tooth-gated mouth.

This is the breakfast room, for Everyday Family Meals, where five gather around the wood-plank table in the wood-paneled room with one window and three doors. Much is said, but who knows how much is ever actually heard.

It is an easier room for me to enter than to leave...no leaving until I finish everything on my plate. Sometimes the battle of wills lasts for hours. I seldom lose, I have lots of tricks and strategies in my repertoire, but it's a lonely victory.

Why do we even keep this cuckoo clock? It always sticks, it never finishes its song or cuckoos the right number of times. Who cares if Uncle John brought it back from Germany? It doesn't work right. I know it'll unstick if I just slam the cellar door, but I'm SICK of slamming the cellar door. I want to sit on the other side of the table, somebody else can have the door-slamming job.

[createdestiny.livejournal.com]

I never understood why children are forced to eat something they don't like. I'm fortunate that my parents were pretty lax in this regard (aside from a meatloaf incident, which I won't go into);P

I love the image of a cuckoo clock from Germany that sticks and doesn't cuckoo the correct number of times.