# Black Hula Hoop



## SilverMoon (Oct 26, 2010)

Black hula hoop
was the heaviest.
I left the silly colored air hoops
to the light weighters
to the “kiddio’s” 
as my mother called us
on the days 
she could not make 
pink lemonade.

In the evenings when
dad went race whore racing,
mother would dress 
in black taffeta gown.
She must have tasted 
the rouge on her lips
and that’s all she needed,
a pinch of blush 
while she rushed a drink
and small candies
dad would leave her,
to feed her,
to fade her.

Silence,
until I would 
claw open 
my small carcass 
to show her 
my loud heart.

“Oh, you’re such a silly mommy!”
as she’d spill gin from her soul
as she’d lift her chin
telling me about Plato,
about spending the 
rest of your life
looking for your other part,
split long ago.

And she’d laugh 
when I didn’t get it,
when I brought in my
_Play-Doh _set,
nodding my head.

“Then, let’s dance!”,
she’d say.
And when she’d fall,
I’d lay next to her,
tickling her ears,
wiping her tears
with my fingers
which I ran through
my bangs on the hot days of summer
when I black hula hooped, strong hipped.

One morning 
I had to close my carcass shut
to smother my loud heart.

I never black hula hooped, again.
It was too heavy.


----------



## Scarlett_156 (Oct 26, 2010)

Dang, this is heavy! You are really talented. I hope you will try to publish, if you have not already. 

I'm not good at critiquing poetry so I can't say much that will help you, I'm afraid--except that your poems are more enjoyable to read than some of the pros'. As always, keep up the good work! 

NOTE:  As in your "great grandmother" poem, there seem to be some really bad memories kicking around in your head, and I admire the skilled and undramatic way in which you exorcise these demons of yours. The writing is the important part to you, or so it seems--not telling us about "something bad that happened".  Good for you!


----------



## Gumby (Oct 26, 2010)

Laurie, your images are beautiful and terrible in their touching simplicity, seen through a childs eyes and memories. The child, mothering the mother, is such a heartwrenching and tender thing. Way too much weight put onto your young shoulders. I very much enjoyed this, though it brought on the tears and sniffles. You're very brave to share these things with us. Take care.


----------



## Baron (Oct 26, 2010)

This poem brings together conflicting elements of poignancy, melancholy and joy in a great example of "show don't tell".  No crits from me on this one, Laurie.


----------



## SilverMoon (Oct 27, 2010)

Thank you, Scarlett, for your large appreciation. Means much to me. To dramatize the already dramatic would render the page black, almost kind of blank page in my mind. I made sure to incorporate light imagery like hula hoops, pink lemonade, laughter and dancing to conflict with the sadness, tradedy, as Rob pointed out - “conflicting elements.” I have been published. One poem in an anthology magazine for poetry, the poem under category"Urban Realizm". Here in our own Newsletter and in our Motely Press EZINE, ever grateful for the exposure and the opportunity to contribute. Now if just get off my butt and start submitting my work to publishing houses, this would be a good thing. To let you know, my stack of poetry has been honed from the critiques I've received here.

Cindy - The only way I could write this honestly "was" through a child’s eyes which required simplicity, of course. And even before the writing, I had to make sure I was “standing” in the right place. Not too close to the event yet not too far. Too close, I would have been a mess. Too far, I might have come across as a journalist, too objective. I've been studying Anne Sexton lately, a Confessional poet, and realize the importance of injecting the light even humerous elements into a poem which is darkly topical. Thank you so much, Cindy, for appreciating the pure simplicity and that it touched you.

Rob, hearing from you that my piece is a good example of “Show don’t Tell” pleases me greatly as it’s really not all that easy to pull off _especially_ when you’re talking about a Confessional piece, so painful, such as this. This being my most heart felt poem. It was cathardic but I did not write it for that purpose. I learned in a writing class that "catharis should _only_ be a byproduct of writing." If not for AA and WF, here, I'd not have grown as a writer, though with so much still yet to learn. So, a personal thank you is in order. Laurie


----------



## Chesters Daughter (Oct 27, 2010)

Lord, this is great, Laurie. Cindy's right about everything, your bravery in sharing, how well the simplicity works from a child's viewpoint, and how horrible it must have been to have  the black hula hoop thrust upon you at such a young age. Loved race whore racing and S3 in its entirety. Heartbreaking and intensely beautiful simultaneously. You know what a fanatical niggler I am, so, I think kidios would look better as kiddios, and it should be Play Doh. One thing I don't get, probably because I have crap for brains lately, "and small candles", I know she rushed the drink, but how did she rush the candles? I'm a little lost here. You ability to stand outside of yourself to write these pieces is remarkable, you inspire me.


----------



## SilverMoon (Oct 27, 2010)

Lisa, I don't know what I would do without you if you were not a fanatic niggler. I keep telling you you should edit for a living!




> while she rushed a drink
> and small candies


 
I did write "candies" but it being read as "candles" I can certainly see the confusion! My, word! 



> probably because I have crap for brains lately, "and small candles",


 
And it's not craps for brains! It's your tired, weary eyes from reviewing just about everyone this morning! A very altruistic move on your part. I don't know that I could do it.

With this clarification you might be OK with the two lines? 

Thank you so much for the Play Doh catch! I don't have kids, so the spelling is so far behind me. Used to love the stuff. They way it smelled.

I very much like your idea of Kiddios. Will read much better on the page.

Yes, thank you. It does require bravery. I'm very much inspired by an absolutely brilliant Confessional writer over at AA. He lays it all out on the table in "artform" which is unforgettable. His strength has encouraged me very much, especially in the writing of this piece. Thank you, as always, Lisa. Luv Laurie


----------



## Chesters Daughter (Oct 27, 2010)

Oh crap, Laurie, it's CANDIES not candles, I don't have my glasses on, I forget to put them on, I only have them five days, I thought the i was an l. Okay, from now on I'll wear my glasses when I'm here, how freaking embarrassing. Forgive me, love.


----------



## Baron (Oct 27, 2010)

Got to be careful with the candles:

[video=youtube;wy_d0fN8riY]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wy_d0fN8riY[/video]


----------



## apple (Oct 27, 2010)

This a wonderful piece, Laurie.  You captured love, innocence and responsibility.  The little girl knew.  I love the title.  It beckoned me.  

my best ,  Sondra


----------



## Chesters Daughter (Oct 27, 2010)

That's it, make fun of the visually challenged. So I put the glasses on and my parrot attacked me because he hates them, but I can see the blood trickling down my face just fine as well as the candies. Thank you Rob, that was hilarious, laughed so hard I had an asthma attack, they are presently hooking me up to a respirator. Laurie, your threads are becoming dangerous. lol.


----------



## SilverMoon (Oct 27, 2010)

Thank you so much, Sondra. I was pleased with the title of the piece because in a way it's a metaphor - something, weighty and black. The stuff which runs throughout the piece. And, yes, I knew. It was just a matter of time.


----------



## SilverMoon (Oct 27, 2010)

Rob said:
			
		

> Got to be careful with the candles:


 


			
				Lisa said:
			
		

> That's it, make fun of the visually challenged. So I put the glasses on and my parrot attacked me because he hates them, but I can see the blood trickling down my face just fine as well as the candies. Thank you Rob, that was hilarious, laughed so hard I had an asthma attack, they are presently hooking me up to a respirator. Laurie, your threads are becoming dangerous. lol.


 
You two have me laughing! Just what I need the day after... Rob, that was great! Lisa, I hear about that damn parrot everyday! He's just plain mean. Do they make parrot muzzles? 


Much appreciated levity, here!


----------



## Scarlett_156 (Oct 27, 2010)

I thought it was "candles" too....  

I'm glad that you have seen your work in print. You're a very talented person. I hope you'll continue to keep everyone posted on your progress, and keep posting your poetry here, as it's very enjoyable and thought-provoking to read.


----------



## SilverMoon (Oct 27, 2010)

Ha! You, too? This will make Lisa _very _happy. Thank you Scarlett. I'll most likely never stop posting here!


----------



## JosephB (Oct 28, 2010)

The image of the "black hula hoop" is awesome -- the contradiction of it -- the innocence suggested by the object and how black suggests the weight of responsibility -- and premature loss of that innocence. There's something a little impossible about it -- like a lead balloon, sort of. 

Poignant isn't a word I'd throw around, maybe because it's so overused, but it applies. There's nothing whiny or gratuitous about this -- and it's hard not to cross that line, given the subject. 



> Silence,
> until I would
> claw open
> my small carcass
> ...


That's great stuff. Good job, Laurie.


----------



## SilverMoon (Oct 28, 2010)

Thank you, Joe. You are very correct about the black hoop but in all honesty there "was" a black hoop which was heavier than the other kids used. And I loved it! I decided to use it as a metaphor which you described very accurately.

It does require a fine balance to write a poem like this so I appreciate your noting this. Thanks for the read and for your take. Laurie


----------



## Nellie (Oct 28, 2010)

Wow, Laurie! 

I know a lot of your story and this is very brave of you to tell with vivid imagery. 
The 2nd line of the 2nd stanza captured my attention. Your dad went whore racing! Wow---what a man!?
You say you never had children of your own, but you certainly did have mothering experience ( is that what it was?) at a young age. 
This poem is one of your best, IMO.

I hope you're doing well.

Cindy


----------



## SilverMoon (Oct 28, 2010)

Thank you so much, Cindy. Yes. You know allot of the story and in this, it's extra special to me that you took to this piece. I did do my share of mothering. Even trying to protect her when in public. I loved her dearly. Beautiful, smart and such a witty woman. _And_ a brilliant writer. I'm sure she's proud of this piece. I think this is my favorite, too  _We're due for a phone call!_


----------

