Tuesday, February 28, 2006

Mother's Hand

She laughs at me,
I know she does.
I’m just a pull behind,
drag along,
one man sideshow,
entertainment for her friends
to grind between giggling teeth,
and slap around with girl-silly tongues.
I’m addicted,
like a child to the smack
on the back of mother’s hand.

8 comments:

J. Andrew Lockhart said...

My mom died pretty young (46), and I wonder a lot what she would think about the things I do now, my children, my job, etc. Now you have me thinking today -- thanks

Aurora said...

My Mom died, too, when I was young. She was the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, even to this day. But somehow this poem doesn't remind me of a mother, it reminds me of someone who's been terribly naughty, so Patrick? Off to the corner! :)

catnapping said...

lol. i got a kick out this one.

Pris said...

I like this one, too. It didn't read to me as a mother-death poem, but as a 'naughty Patrick' poem:-)

Nice write!

Pat Paulk said...

No, it's not a mother/death poem. I have been known to be "naughty". And I don't go in the corner by myself! Thanks Rebecca! Sometimes my muse wakes up in a funny mood.

Maddy said...

Ouch - and hurrah!

Snappy - like rap!

smiles

Eric said...

entertaining!

Pat Paulk said...

Thanks Madelyn for stopping by and commenting! We aims to please Eric!