Sunday, 22 September 2013

The bad seed

Stories that we tell

How many clues in our life

Our secret domain


As from our cradle

We are peering outward bound

Do you see us three?


Truth, lies, forgetting

Never seen by my mother

Apple of her eye


Welcome claws of fate

You have piled my spirits up

I, friend to no-one


Now for rash actions

I’ll lead my life in exile

She will never see


  1. Oh but I forgot to add...mother's see everything. Mine had eyes in the back of her head

  2. Love it, OE. I agree with mother had eyes on the back of her head, too.

  3. Ah, maybe the mother does see.

  4. Mothers do not always see, and that could be a blessing,


  5. The claws of fate can be cruel things indeed.
    My parents were very stoic people. My mother is still alive and she has softened a bit. My father died last year. While we didn't have an awful relationship, I always felt like he didn't understand me because I have always been a heart on the sleeve type where he always withheld his emotions. After he died and I was reflecting on our relationship, I saw that in his own stilted way, he really did care.

  6. There is something about us succumbing to our parents expectations. My mother is 93 and I still hear her exhortions ringing in mind. /well-written, oldegg.