My mother’s tearless eyes were gorgeous green
Until my father – her first love – left life.
Then sadness dyed them grey when she had seen
The witch who makes a widow out of wife.
My sisters – fatherless, and feeling too
Forsaken, would have caused the stones to weep
If they had heard their sobs when darkness grew,
And sorrow’s sword had severed them from sleep.
My father’s father could not understand
Why he had earned long years of borrowed time;
A grandad, living longer in the land
Than son, lacked reason, relevance and rhyme!
Myself, with eagle eyes that faith had grew
Did fear my mother’s grief too wild to tame,
That grace it would not stifle or subdue,
So God above, she then would come to blame.
My father’s fate, some said, was twice as cruel
For those he loved, since they lived on and breathed,
But we feigned flippancy and played the fool;
Inside our shattered souls alone we seethed.
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Author:
Blue-eyed Bolla (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: January 1st, 2019 06:55
- Comment from author about the poem: reflection on how we all responded to the death of my father when i was a child.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 13
Offline)
Comments2
you recall a tragedy thus so well indeed... sad recollections and true...
Many thanks, Neville. I appreciate your feedback and I thank you for taking the time to read my sorry output. Again, thank you.
it seems so wrong me saying that I enjoyed reading ya.. particularly because of the topic.. I trust you understand what I mean.... All Good Things for 2019 sir.... Neville
Very good emotive write Neville.
Many thanks, Goldfinch. 😉
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