Are‑ya‑done”
Mum’s bottle clicked open
with that sharp brown whiff
that lived somewhere between
seaweed, metal, and trouble.
Knees barked from gravel,
elbows freckled with
the day’s too‑fast cornering,
and she’d dab that amber drop
that rolled like syrup
but bit like a tiny spark.
“I‑o‑dine,” she’d chant,
stretching the vowels
as if the sound itself
could clean a wound.
“Are‑ya‑done?” I’d fire back,
half‑brave, half‑whinge,
because the sting always arrived
a blink after the colour bloomed.
It painted my skin
in rusty constellations,
left blotches on shirts
that never washed out,
badges of honour
for a day well‑spent
skidding through dirt
and inventing danger.
By evening, the marks
glowed faintly on my shins,
a kind of sunset souvenir
from the rough‑and‑tumble hours
before the streetlights flicked on.
And Mum would hold the bottle up,
give it a shake like a tiny rattle,
and ask again, softer this time,
“Are‑ya‑done?”
But the day never really was.
Only paused.
Waiting for the next sprint,
the next scrape,
the next amber bloom.
.
-
Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: February 25th, 2026 05:06
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 32
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Friendship, Tristan Robert Lange, Poetic Licence
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Comments10
a good write, brought back my childhood memories
Thanks Norman! I can still smell it metallic sting🕊️🙏🏻
Memories pour from that bottle that likewise stain and sting. Yet the day is still not over and mom still appears shaking the bottle. A wonderful poem of nostalgia that paints the mind with the past. A fave my friend
The stain can be a badge of honour and repair 🕊️🙏🏻
Indeed so true
nicely written.
Thanks dear Friendship 🙏🏻🕊️
One reaches for the stinging bottle - the graze on the knee at school, etc. Good write A.
Smell of the infirmary and the kitchen table for some reason🙏🏻🕊️
Reading this took me straight back to my own rough-and-tumble days…the sting arriving a blink after the colour bloomed. That rhythm of hurt, pride, and reset feels universal. You captured that pause between tears and bravery perfectly. Love it, Rik! 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
The reset and further adventure always outshone the sting! 🙏🏻🕊️
Totally! 💯
Brought back Memories of my own Mother.
God bless them. Good one.
Thanks Kevin. There’s love and tough love all rolled into one🙏🏻🕊️
Such memories of childhood brought back Rik, that iodine never ran out. LOL
Andy
Collis Browne's Linctus & iodine both necessary staples in ma's magnificent medicine chest .. Oh' n goose grease slapped on brown paper for when we got chesty .. Those were the days indeed .. A smashing bit of nostalgia sir so ta for the ride .. Neville 😎👍
Memories that continue to sting as they pour from the mind, even though they knew that sting was coming it is part of what made them. This is wonderfully written and a pleasure to read
Such beautiful childhood memories of scrapes and the ever effective iodine treatment 👌✌️
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