I had some short stories, poems and photographs to share ... and so here I am

Another Recent Poem

The Brown Cloth

My peculiar porcelain boy,
living your awkward love.
How unbearable to watch

you recoil from her touch.
Afraid of being exposed,
rendering intimate truths.

Her protests are open now,
against me, our odd ways.
Users of the brown cloth,

old bathroom modesties.
The flesh denied freedom,
our bodies golden temples.

Inhibition over exhibition,
a mother’s lasting regret.
Will your past stay present,

keeping you forever timid?
Forgive me my hapless son,
stained by the brown cloth.

© Copyright, 2008. Seamus Kearney. "The Brown Cloth".


Marja said...

Nice poem Have to go over it again to capture it completely. We've got exactly the same brown cloth at home Hope my son didn't get stained by it

S. Kearney said...

Thanks Marja! Oh mothers and their regrets about how they raise their children.:-)

Eric Valentine said...

Good poem Seamus, like Marja though I'm still juggling a little.. :)

Hope you are well my friend.. :)

S. Kearney said...

Cheers Eric - Good to have you pop by. People have interpreted this poem in different ways, which is interesting. Amazing how we all see different things. :-)

Anonymous said...

???? Private parts covered with cloth? MOther guilty her son is now strange and shy? Very sad & nicely evoked.

Anonymous said...