"Welcome to our first grade poetry contest" A tall and slim woman smiled brightly as she called the first child. "Is this seat taken?" I looked up to a woman with long braids in her hair and beautiful brown eyes. "No, no, go ahead, you can sit" "Thanks, I was running so late" "It's fine, and I don't wanna seem like I'm flirting but I couldn't help but notice you are a very beautiful woman." "What for a black woman?" She snapped. I looked confused. "No for a woman in general..." I said plainly. "Oh, sorry, I'm just used to..." "It's fine shhh, here comes my daughter"
"Autumn Waters" I smiled as the small child stepped onto the stage. The crowd gasped as she smiled brightly in her skinny jeans, metallica tank top, blue converse high tops, and on her arms she wore bright colors from crayola markers making shapes and words. Those were her "tattoos" that she did this morning. Sweat soaked my brow as the parents looked around looking for her parents i guess. All the disapproving eyes fell on me and I immediately got uncomfortable. "Um turn around the baby up there should have your attention, not him" The woman beside me snapped as she stood u challenging any parent that dared to reply.
"My poem is called Tattoos and Pacifiers" An angelic voice chimed turning everyone around. "Where's your paper sweetheart?" A judge asked. "I don't need it. My Daddy helped my memorize it" The crowd awed. My baby girl took a breath before she spoke again. "Tattoos and Pacifiers is dedicated to all the inked up parents, the rocking moms and metal dads. The judged outcasts of parenthood, this is for you." She caught my eye and smiled brightly. Inhale, exhale, repeat, and speak...
*-----Tattoos and Pacifiers----*
Tattoos and Pacifiers,
Piercings and diapers,
Loud music on the baby monitor.
Eyes always judge,
When they see this combination.
But who are you to judge,
When they are doing what's needed?
They are still a parent just like you.
Personally, I say they are better.
You turn up your nose, when you see a child
With marker tattoos on their arms.
That's how they bond with their parents.
So what it's not your life!
I was raised by tattoos!
I was raised by piercings!
I was raised by rock and metal music!
Give those parents a break,
They are doing their job.
Just like my daddy did with me.
So, stop judging.
There is nothing wrong with
Tattoos and Pacifiers
She smiled with confidence as she looked over the silent room. I could see her bottom lip start to shake, so I did what any loving father would do, fighting back tears I threw off my hoodie revealing my tatted arms and neck. I stood proudly and slammed my rough hands together and with a raspy voice I screamed to the stage. "I love you Princess"