Tag Archives: sons

Poem 98: On a child leaving home

All shall know a time of knowing raindrops on the window.
Storm clouds break apart, bestowing raindrops on the window.

Woven branches of a boulder river’s plaited pattern
echo tangled paths of flowing raindrops on the window.

No sunshine in this early morning’s churlish rooster’s call.
Stay in bed! The cock’rel’s crowing “Raindrops on the window!”

Some folk imbibe a fear-filled brew, and full of sad dismay,
dread the storm, dislike the growing raindrops on the window.

The cellist plays a longing air of now-gone, buoyant years,
enthralled in thought, rapt in bowing raindrops on the window.

Bruce knows the time has come for you to step from where you grew.
Blurred sight hides your pathway going. Raindrops on the window.

Listen to this poem being read HERE!

Apologies for the poor audio quality… broken mic.

1191. Three sons

Bridgette was tired. She held down two jobs. After all, as well as herself, she had three mouths to feed. There was Tom, her eldest, with Les in the middle, and Archie at the bottom. Three boys! And she provided for them on her own.

School was an expensive time, what with books, and camps, and computers, and this and that. All three sons with just a year between each. She should have spaced them out better!

Of course, they ate Bridgette out of house and home. Boys have such gigantic appetites. She was forever having to refill the fridge.

Now, at last, they’d all finished school. All three had part-times jobs, but spent most of their time at home on their computers and phones.

Could they not perhaps, suggested Bridgette, make a small monetary contribution to the running of the house? Now that they have part-time jobs?

But we live here. This is our home, they said. Why should we pay board?

Frustrated, Bridgette went out to mow the lawn.

667. Three sons

© Bruce Goodman 8 August 2015

667sons

Jacqueline and Carlton had three sons; Darcy, Caxton, and Pedro. The three sons were all grown up and married. Jacqueline and Carlton didn’t have a great deal of money. They did have money in fact, but they’d lent it out to their three sons. With young families, the sons needed to have a house to live in. Lending them money to buy a house each was Jacqueline and Carlton’s way of giving them a head start in life. Jacqueline and Carlton lived off the minimal amount of interest that their sons paid.

Then Carlton upped and died. His will “forgave” the debts owed by the sons. Jacqueline could no longer live on interest paid because there were no longer loans.

“That’s fine,” thought Jacqueline, “my sons will help me out I’m sure.”

Clearly, she’d never read Shakespeare’s King Lear.