The Time I Never Lived Comments

the angels are listening, To every groan in your heart, Their messages to you are real. It will be better tomorrow. The history of their seeing, In the bodies of the abused. painful. sorrowful........ failure to see the holiness and fineness in a physical union and in real love.......... very fine poem using such expressive words coinages. thank u dear poetess. dev

I know the scenario as I have read Uncles Tom Cabin translated in oriya.Now all are free. that time has gone. Slavery was on all lines viz, castes in India, colour, gender.We should have a forum of poets to fight all kinds of inequality and abuse.The digital world has offered us an opportunity never given in the past.Good poem

More Powerful Than I Could Ever Say! ! ! ! ! Very Heart Felt Words In Every Way! ! ! ! ! Deeply Moving! ! ! ! ! Excellently Voiced! ! ! ! ! Thank You So Very Much For Sharing This! ! ! ! ! Ever Ever So Very Many 10S! ! ! ! ! +++++ Congratulations On Poem Of The Day! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

//It was raining blows...frying pan of time...pain that walks as tall.// I wish to word like you, Sarah. It's a good time encountering your fresh and new way of wording. Thanks for this piece, poetess. I'm glad I came around.

Slavery and abusive masters is a painful dark chapter of human history. A wonderful poem that takes us to that dark abyss to feel the sorrow and anger and pain of those who lived it. Congratulations and thanks for sharing.

Painful write for those went through this trauma. Innocence of childhood being crushed, expressed very well. Congratulation for member of the day poem. Well written Sarah!

Being abused is not a good feeling. You have poured the pain into this heart wrenching poem. compliments.

In the bodies of the abused! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.

The whip of her words Turning me this way and that, Pushing me away always. ...... ...... ..... ........ I speak in mumbles. The darkness answers me. ............................................... Tomorrow comes to kiss your forehead The sunlight comes to massage you With the hand of so smooth, So warm, so right handed Its handling is a holy caress, .......... ........... ........ The painful abusing in childhood, the rightful endeavour to get over, a journey from darkness to light... So beautifully expressed in the poem. Thanks poet for the art of writing. Great poem. Thanks poet for the sharing. 10+++

It was raining blows. It was mincing words. It was bouncing on me. It was grinding me. It was bashing me. It was painting me. The whip of her words Turning me this way and that, Pushing me away always. Now I am gone to the place. I squat there like a life. I speak in mumbles. The darkness answers me. Yes keep breathing You will be free, For you were born free To jump and laugh loud And tell the stories of people Whose minds were messed up Like yours, scrambled up And poured on the frying pan of time. Tomorrow comes to kiss your forehead The sunlight comes to massage you - - - - - - - - - - The painful story of an abused child has been expressed so powerfully. The narrator chooses the right means to get rid of the childhood trauma and is on his way to light.He delves deep into the cause and consequence of child abuse.A fine poem to be chosen as Poem of the Day.Thanks for sharing.

It is a poem on pain having touchingly expression. Congratulations for being selected as the poem of the day.

Tomorrow comes to kiss your forehead The sunlight comes to massage you With the hand of so smooth, So warm, so right handed Great poem so nicely penned. 10 for it.

Not blinking but yelling, The history of their seeing, In the bodies of the abused. A nice poem. Thanks poet and congrats.

The darkness answers me. Nice poem so beautifully written. 10

a very powerful poem that depicts not just physical abuse but also the ongoing mental abuse from evil people that seems to be so prevalent every where in the world today? ...............well written Sarah

Such a very good poem worthy to be chosen...a huge 10+++++

In the first stanza I see childhood trauma that was dealt out in words. She was toughened by such treatment but driven into her own world. In that world she encountered forces of healing. But she is looking honestly into the legacy of hate which lies dangerously latent whenever two people look hard into each other's eyes. This is a heady brew, full of honesty, its language truly visceral. Language is an instrument of communication, but it is also a vehicle carrying freight of trauma.

...scrambled up/ And poured on the frying pan of time. Scrambled eggs can't be made into an omelette, but an omelette can be turned into scrambled eggs. Both are food for the body. Sarah, the poem is intriguing and profound. A few of your words had made me create a quotation. Which was fun. A few other words had evoked pain from memories of seeing classmates being abused by Catholic nuns. Definitely not fun. But those words of pain, and feelings of pain, are stimulating my mind. In a creative way. Thank You!

A true artist must tell the truth.. iip

So touching. Thank you for sharing