It started innocently enough. He’d say “Now try this hat on and smile for daddy”, CLICK , “Try this dress on for daddy. Smile at the camera”, CLICK. I was about eight years old at the time and had already been repeatedly sexually abused and raped by my father since i was young. so him taking photographs of me was a welcome change and made me feel ‘important’ and as he said ‘daddy’s special girl’.


But soon the demands came for slinky dresses, skimpy dresses, not-much-there dresses, then NO dresses, then just vest and knickers; after a while it was just knickers and “Turn round this way for daddy, and now smile”, CLICK. At this stage i’d got bored, tired and chilly with so little clothes on. “I’m cold, daddy”, “Can i go and play now please?” “Just a few more pictures and then you can go and play”, he’d say CLICK.


The next day, he’d say “Come on, daddy’s favourite girl; let’s just go and a few photos, then you can go and play. We won’t be long”.  Before long, the clothes were completely discarded the close-ups began and i began to feel uncomfortable. I scowled. “Now, now, be a good girl and smile nicely for daddy”  CLICK.  And so it progressed. 


As i grew up, i thought nothing of all that; that was until i met my older, ex-boyfriend who was heavily into porn, both magazines and books such as ‘Mayfair and ‘Forum’, and pornographic videos. He insisted i watch the films with him and being a girl who didn’t know how to say no, i did so and it was only then that the pieces of the jigsaw started to fall together. I said nothing. I was well-practised at that, after all.


Years later and now as a mature adult and not surprisingly needing regular therapy, i wrote this poem:



Porn, masquerading as family photographs

I doubt in albums. I wonder where they are now

I’m haunted by the memories of those pictures

Will I ever know?

Will I ever……


Porn, masquerading as a trip to the water’s edge

Not a soul, other than me, an unspoiled child

And the man who crept upstairs

Goosebumps! Why? Will I ever know?

Will I ever……


Porn, salacious images, Freudian

Prurient, not unlike the top-shelf magazines

Shopkeepers sell to perverts. So easy

Slipped between the respectable pages of the Guardian

Will I ever know why? Will I ever……


Porn, of a child, cold blooded murder

Heartless deeds by the man I once loved

He, seated in his throne, with his skanky pipe

Sawdust, filth, tobacco ash and black fingernails

Will I ever know why?

Will I ever……


Porn, of an innocent little girl, so destructive

Deeds of a most iniquitous crime

Printed in the dark room by the man I used to call “daddy”

Will I ever know why?

Will I ever……




2 thoughts on “INNOCENT PHOTOGRAPHS???

  1. Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry. These memories I live with are one thing, but the thought of there ever being photographs of my abuse for someone to find makes me nauseous. Thank you for sharing

    1. Thank you for your kind comment. My father died nearly two years ago and my mother is just beginning to get ‘people’ in to clear his flat upstairs and i live in fear of one of these strangers finding such humiliating photographs.

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