Mother, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz


The hanger in her waving hand
A sign that she is in command
She stretched it out like a paddle
Swung it as hard as she’s able
Such anger I could see her teeth
The flaying wire I was beneath
Wack, wack across my tender back
Again and again there’s no slack
I would not shed a single tear
To her I’d not show any fear
A symbol of her life gone wrong
Within her sight I didn’t belong
Years later she finally died
On that dark rainy day I cried

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Husband, Father, Grandfather, Lover of all beautiful things. I love to read and write poetry. My favorite hangouts are libraries and museums and yet I love being outdoors. I am a dreamer of things that could be.

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