Relations

One of the strangest family trees.

I wrote this in English when, I think, we were doing the Poe section and my classmates were like, "Ewwww, he married his COUSIN?!" and the teacher had to remind them numerous times that Poe was adopted.  So I started writing a poem with a completely whacky family tree with a sort of satirical tone to it.  This is what came out.  I thought it was cute.

 

Picture credit to PhotoAlto/Eric Audras.

 

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My father is my uncle

And my granddaughter my friend.

Oh, how could I imagine

It would ever reach this end?

 

My dog is my companion

And he edits all my words.

My son has been my plumber,

Though that isn’t so absurd.

 

My daughter was my teacher;

And my wife, she was my pet.

The joke was always humorous

‘til dragged she was to vet.

 

Wherefore is my savior?

He was my cousin’s pal.

My nephew was a ruddy prick

But perished in that row.

 

My brother was my younger

With eyes just for my chest.

Prefers his wine “aged and close”

And disregards the rest.

 

My son, he was a rapist,

But a charismatic sort.

Convinced the girl to marry him

And raised the babe for sport.

 

From sports I found her grace and spirit,

Kicking rotund toys.

She growled at the male sort

And preferred her kin to boys.

 

How horrid it would seem then,

That my son fell for my wife.

His poor lass looked to fewer years

And left them both in strife.

 

My own poor love, the wife I watch,

Was murdered by my son.

Granddaughter came to comfort me

As Son went on the run.

 

My father, with my aunt reside,

Did heave a giant cry.

For he did lust my son in earnest

And hopes instead to die.

 

So that is why I never scribe

A chart for fam’ly drama.

All I have is Granddaughter

And I wonder if it’s karma.

 

My family is a confounding group

And I in no way normal.

This ballad is my only product

And it in no way formal.

 

Please forgive our ungodly sins,

For they weren’t our intention.

We all were born as any others

But strayed far from convention.

 

Dear wife, how does apology come

For producing your demise;

When Son created Granddaughter

And she, young friend, so wise.

 

She will save our family

And bring us back to light.

I trust her to transform us all

And catch us from this plight.

Reviews

[Sarah]

This certainly was very cute.^^ I love how it started out almost humorous, and then became darker as the poem continued, then ending with optomism. ^__^ I love the rhyme as well. Nice job with this. =)