Happy 81st birthday – to my long deceased mom

• Posted by: matthew harris
• Created: November 13, 2016
• 0

My mother succumbed to a terminal illness 

 and passed away

no matter she fought tooth and nail 
   to keep ovarian/uterine cancer at bay

disease metastasized throughout major organs, 

-     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -
   hence demise found grim reaper to carry

her into the dead zone - 
   eleven and a half years ago to the day

thus a flash in a bed pan idea flit 
   thru me mind setting task at hand to forego bidding on e-bay

and ruminate how she felt 
   knowing her end to be near - 

-     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -
   where her psyche did flay

with anger writhing at the injustice 
   to snatch thee lover of live to become ashen gray

yet, a recurring memory replays in my mind, 
   whereby this sole sun did booster morale with a hay

huzzah, but stood mute in close proximity 

-     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -
   within the kitchen of thee predominant 

   century old mansion stone built home donned with ivy

razed, though complex edifice sans domicile 

   no longer remains, only in mid noggin 
   twittering memories flutter like a blue jay

keeping intact the house at 324 level road, 

   Collegeville, Pennsylvania - 

-     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -

   amazed at my ability to recall an okay

dough key mixed with many emotions arising 
   from where siblings and me did blessedly play

our oasis, a rural route number 2 - 
   or rd2 for short a constituent key 

   per of our residence, which like a quay

tsar seemed light years removed from civilization, 

   a remnant tract of idyllic ray

-     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -

dee hance, upon with open space slated 
   to become outfitted and transformed into an urban stay

shin for mobile Americans hop scotching 

   as short term owners of a new home they

never knew what cherished mother-son trials and tribulation, 

   now harbored an enshrined pristine sanctuary secular way

-     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -

down deep in thy conscious, which access 
   to retrieve nada so excel lent circumstances of youth 

   (sans dwelling upon expansive roof many an outlook raised) 
   on par with hop, jump, or skipping to Uruguay 

but noting can recreate and make real one again 

-     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -
 deconstructed house where dwelt pangs 

   of pre and post adolescence 
   no matter i mouth and soundlessly mutter oye vay

till the cows come home, 

   cuz the days of boyhood, teenage and adult hood 
   (matt er of fact, this heir over staid his welcome) doth owe way

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

kin this day of the month every year the aura, charisma, 

   and persona delighting like galena zany

persona, thine late mother of pearl and milk of human kindness

yes, this cingular male offspring doth miss

when he gives pause (all faux), 

   thus aye scrawl this poetic mini opus

knowing full well, ye will never be cognizant, 

   but cathartic to press

-     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -

a key (on this macbook) and expunge res 

in situ jewel flowing emotions 

   akin to rapunzel unfurling long tress

buffeted by the war wren inside mine being 

   for love unspoken, i confess

and tis thru fatherhood (which beautiful grand daughters 

   ye would marvel) despite obloquy when ye and papa de address

me in harsh terms, but objectionable traits 

-     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -

   wove within mein kempf DNA less 

or more, and angst riddled body, mind and sprit 

   rent asunder with emotional duress

essentially encoded within the twisted sisterly strands 

   that wrought Matthew Scott Harris, now the boss

and master of his own psychological domain, 

   whereat he closes with mum -- 

   i feel terrible ye got angry and cross! 

Related entries