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Bend Sinister
| Open Poetry #37 |
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Bend Sinister |
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XOx Uriah xOX Senior Member
since 2006-02-11
Posts 1403Virginia 
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Surrounded by fragrant honeysuckle... That offered secrecy and bliss... Two of Cupid's pierced, whispered and chuckled; And shared a rapturous kiss. 'Twas no fortuitous frolic, That together brought these two ; It was a carefully hidden, parental forbidden, Hallowed rendezvous. Soon, the world would seperate them ; Soon, the sea would form a cleft. But now...A promise, that she'd made him... Of a gift, before he left. War was raging, east and west... 'Twas that circumstance that led The young G.I. to gain access To the sacred maidenhead. A day that brought Heaven down from above ; But, on that following day... She had to conceal all signs of Love, As the bus took him away. While Death and Hell worked overtime, In cities bombed and beaches stormed... 'Twas LIFE that plagued the young girl's mind ; By a baby being formed. Questions were written and answers were read Through letters, received and sent. The two decided that they would wed... When the young man's tour was spent. Her parents would have to hear the news. She undertook this task alone. They had no ears for her plans or views ; But, shouted orders of their own. There shall be no talk of church and minister ! One of Hippocrates' sworn will serve you best ! We must erase the vile bend sinister... Before it streaks the family crest ! Our genealogy is held with pride ! It shall bear no shameful slash ! The family tree will not abide The seed of "poor white trash" ! The cloud of decision that above her hovered, Overshadowed her tender years. She hastily wrote her lover A misty blend of ink and tears. She told him of her parent's demands. How they disregarded all her pleas. She boarded a bus, with bags in hand, Before the letter crossed the seas. Over there, the poor and tattered And the well-off dressed the same. Financial status did not matter. It bore no cause for pride nor shame. From the first war...through it's sequels... The story was the same... Death and Fear held each man equal. And accepted all who came. Confidence filled the prior dreg. He thrived upon the equal start. Until, a shrapnel shattered leg Left him with a Purple Heart. The townfolk cheered their Hero son ! He no longer caused them shame. He was celebrated for the deeds he'd done. Former scorners, praised his name. Great honors were bestowed upon him ! The highest tributes his country could pay. News of his beloved stunned him. When he was told she'd moved away. Her parents greeted him with a kiss and embrace. A hearty handshake and a smile. They said she had left without a trace. They feared she would shed the child. They said they had offered their support... ( Slithering from under the rock of blame ) The girl thought it best that she abort. Rather than bear the child in shame. Weeks were years, for the young G.I. He could not drink as much as he grieved. His life was shattered by guilt and lies And a letter, not received. Then one night, a headlight showed his back... The whistle matched his wails ; The Hero, from the wrong side of the track, Lay dead between the rails. No one was blamed. No one accused. There was no mention of the young man's pain. The paper simply bore the news... War Hero Killed By Train... Shiny shoes and suits confronted rain and mud ; To honor the one who'd passed away. 'Neath a striped tribute to bandages and blood, The Hero's casket lay. Many mourners were drawn to the event. They did their best to seem sincere. But, of all the ones who came and went... There were only two, who offered tears. An infant's limited means to communicate... Came as screams and tears, from needed sleep. 'Twas acts of cruel and twisted fate... That gave the mother cause to weep. With child in arms, the woman cried On bent and muddied knees For a lover whom she thought had died In bloody battle, overseas. Her parents had laid down the tale... And for a large and tempting fee... The Hero's mother, with tongue and tears for sale, To the deception, did agree. The girl had written to her parents, Inquiring about her lover. That they spoke truth, seemed so apparent, When she called the young man's mother. His mother confirmed that it was the truth. With deceitful tears and gasps for breath. To the girl, this of course was proof, Of her dear beloved's death. And so, she struggled on her own. Single mother, infant son. With no thought of returning home. 'Til she learned what had been done. The Sheriff presented a letter to the girl ; Found at the scene of the Hero's death. It told of broken dreams and shattered world, When he'd heard why she had left. No words here can express the pain Or the fortitude it took to cope As she read his words, there in the rain Her name on the bloodied envelope. No words here can express the hate. The anger in her heart For the wicked hands that dealt the fate And tore their world apart. It is said that all wounds heal with time ; But time brought no mending to the breach. She could not forgive her parent's crime 'though they often did beseech. They often wrote and often explained How it had all been done for her good. Seeing their grandchild would ease the pain. But she swore they never would She wrote them back and stated That they'd no need to persist Before his birth, the child was hated Now, forget that he exist ! In time, there were some pictures sent. "Your grandson at age four" They were not meant to mend the rent But to irritate the sore. Nothing closed the gaps as time elasped 'though at times they raved and ranted "You can whine and cry 'til you collaspe, But visitation shall not be granted. Now... upon his bed of death Her father palely lies Soon shall pass his final breath Darkness soon shall cloak his eyes Her mother mails a letter... A final plea, that she please abide Her father's request...that before he rest, Have his grandson at his side She replied, "I've mailed you pictures ! You never shall draw nearer ! While Time is still mastered...to see the bastard... You need but look into a mirror !" Her father lies nestled 'neath the clay His wife came shortly after. From the funerals, the daughter stayed away For fear she'd not contain her laughter. With the passing of the Hero's mother... The future now begins... All involved now clutch their earthly cover... Awaiting judgement for their sins With Lawyer and pen, names were changed... Now, there is no cause for shame. On the mantle, his medals are carefully arranged. His son proudly bears his name. All others... now in their proper place... The blood poisoning is finished. The bend sinister has been erased... The family crest bears no blemish. |
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| © Copyright 2006 Larry F. Leake - All Rights Reserved | |||
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latearrival Member Ascendant
since 2003-03-21
Posts 5499Florida |
Great story and too often true.. |
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Seymour Tabin Member Empyrean
since 1999-07-07
Posts 31720Tamarac Fla |
XOx Uriah xOX You write a fine story, enjoyed. |
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