Childhood Triggers

Quiet, he says nothing.
He doesn't tell me what's on his mind.
"Please tell me something!"
I tell stories, I smile, I cry, I yell...
still he's quiet.


A lover reminded me of someone.


He laughs.
Weak people are a joke.
He considers himself better.
I start to choke.


A friend reminded me of someone.


Sneaky, smart and skeptical,
I saw this man many times in them,
they were my father,
for his sins I got grafted in...
those men, my father...
what?
My faaathhher!


*                *                     *


Love, what was that to him?
Did it perform?
This is why I went out on a limb.
Did it suit a purpose?
What was the relevancy?
"Look at my certificates, want to see, want to see, Daddy!?"


When love caused pain, it was pushed away.
No talking, TV is on...
better not have much to say.


Children.
Seen not heard.
An attempt was made to change the father's past.
He had sex, planned for family--way too fast.


Conversation invited criticism,
shut the poor child's mouth up!
Shout her down!
He sipped too much from a cup.
Go back to being seen, not heard.


"Don't say this...
Don't say that...
If you tell..."
Old devil wearing a hat.


What was I supposed to do again?
What was I supposed to hide?
Good man walking,
my emotions were taking me for a ride.
good girl, no talking--
just a relative and a friend to confide.


Repressed memories,
revealed truth.
Harsh words
ruined a child's self esteem.
Angry hands
caused a child to fear men.
Control, control must have control--
he invited a spirit of confusion.
This wasn't discipline!


Recalled why getting shoved was okay,
why being called names was alright,
learned to formulate scripts on what to say...
why grabbing received a pass from a lover--
too many times in one day.


Didn't wonder anymore why childhood triggers
pushed me into the arms of what the patriarch said was,
"No Good N*ggers!"


I could understand,
even if he too was a black man.


The power of the pen,
freed me, wrote my way out of misery.


Thought back to the past,
realized why love didn't last.
Tired of the blame, caught up in the shame,
being exposed, he didn't want to feel lame.


"So shut that child up,
put something in that cup...
leave me alone,
don't bother to phone."
I heard it all in his tone.


Destroyed false beliefs,
wasn't going back to provide any reliefs.


Moving on with this thing called, life,
being healed from one particular strife.


God sees all and
pride comes before
a man's fall.


Nicholl McGuire is the author of Say Goodbye to Dad and other books.

Loving Someone Else But Me

Who do I see before my eyes?
The one I once loved
he was surrounded by a yellow light of happiness I so desired.

He loved me when I thought I couldn't be loved.
For I had spent many years feeling unloved.

No kiss upon the nape of my neck.
No arms that embraced my waist, spun me around,
and kissed me with lips that said, "It will be alright, I love you baby."

I had longed for memories of awaking to a smile.
My body ached for a slow caress that didn't move away
seeking the next body to hold.

I thought I found what I had been wishing for in him,
but I was wrong.

He was attached to another in mind, still heard her voice,
wished that his present would be different, thought far too long
about the past.

He was attached in body too.
At times his stride would go back to a time when he moved
the same with her.

Then the final blow to my heart, his spirit still connected.
He couldn't allow himself to drown in prayer for me,
because he was too busy still praying for her.

So I await my sentence until I am free again...
maybe the next time things will be different.

For more poems and relationship articles written by Nicholl McGuire http://www.associatedcontent.com/nichollmcguire

Shuffled Vision of You

Shuffling feet
Stop take a breath.

Strong arms
pushed my body into the chair.
Angry thoughts, I saw you.

You smiled it was different
You couldn’t get love at home.
Didn’t have any to give
So you shuffled your feet
To another one’s home.

Took deep breaths
In and out.
Up and down
On a lazy boy chair.

She flung her arms around you
and pushed you down
or so you would like me to think.

I saw you naked!
Naked lie!
Naked truth!
In my shuffled vision.

While I took a deep breath.


Nicholl McGuire

Money and the Working Parent

Born into the world needy
grew up and became greedy.

First baby boy born
my heart now torn.

Split between job and time
can't seem to save a dime.

Don't want to have to choose
for I know my child will lose.

Living check to check
a credit card wreck.

Loan upon loan
only a sigh and a moan.

Dirty diapers and cries
the American dream lies.

Hold my limp hand
tired legs can't stand.

Freezer meal junkie
laundry smells funky.

Sink full of dishes
and pot of gold wishes.

Tired husband, wife
feeling the stress, strife.

Nights provide a break
One day by a lake.

Giving up on some things
while the church bell rings.

No more, no more
my heart no longer tore.

Choose between job or time?
my love is above a dime.


Written by: Nicholl A. McGuire