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Autographs of My Famous Friends

Ma’s hands cupped over her face as
sadness dripped like spring rain that falls from
the sill where orchids bloom from red maple mulch.

I just stood there helpless, thinking that
she had always been so sensitive and
I could see memories flooding her mind.

The book just happened to open to a blank page that
she had written on forty years ago
wishing me a successful and happy life.

Surprised that I still had my book of famous friends,
she put her arms around me and said,
"I love you"

I thought how she is now old and frail
and Dad needs her more than ever - that
I would not see them again.

Soundly they slept as I left that morning,
the morning when mocking birds mocked themselves and
I realized that I was alone to take care of myself…

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content

Comments

This is a very unique book
of autographs
unimaginable
by likes of me

Mark, I love your poem. It does pose a few questions, such as whether your Ma is (or was) going to die soon. So sad, the thoughts you express. I've always been sad that I never thanked my mother for all the wonderful things she taught me, especially English, which she spoke to me when I was still in the cradle.
The first stanza is wonderful. Is your Ma included in the book of famous friends?
I shall have to return, this has brought tears to my eyes.
Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

Mark thre are no words hat seem appropriate for the beauty of this write. It touched something deep within me perhaps that had been forgotten by choice

Chrys

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I think "intense" pretty much covers it

the feeling that you are not speaking of the real death of your parents, but figuratively. That one morning, you awoke to the stark reality, that they are both gone. That it really had finally sunk in. ~ Geez.
.

When you are writing for the Random Challenge!
Example: "I Need To Recharge" is prompt.
title is "Plugging In" It should appear this way:
"Plugging In" - Random Challenge/ I Need To Recharge

And can’t help but ask after what really happened there.

I can see the interp either way, as the parental deaths or leaving home for other, equally angst circumstances. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to... just how the poem resides with me here.

I like the three line stanzas a lot. That’s a powerful form.

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Raywhitakerblog.wordpress.com
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We are lucky to still have them. My mother is 93 and still hanging in there. My father has passed on years ago. I still get to talk with my mother, via telephone, [when I can catch her in her room] but this pandemic is keeping us from personal visits. Nice story and I'm so glad that you have your mother's autograph, depicting her as the most famous person in your little book.
~ Geez.
.

When you are writing for the Random Challenge!
Example: "I Need To Recharge" is prompt.
title is "Plugging In" It should appear this way:
"Plugging In" - Random Challenge/ I Need To Recharge

Hi, Mark,
So much to like here, especially the feelings of an adult son toward his mother. I think we all feel a little less secure after our parents reach a certain age, or when they eventually pass on. I'm a little baffled with what the book actually is, but no matter. It seems your mother knows how very much the book means to you. Very sweet.
Thank you,
L

XXXSoundlyXXX
Expectantly

they slept as I left that morning,
the morning when mocking birds mocked themselves

XandX
I realized that I was alone
now left bereft
full Marks

XXX to take care of myselfXXXX

will find and upgrade
ok Marks

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