Imposed Formalities

Imposed Formalities prose poem

Photo by aronpo

An irritable child of six,
the targeted television set,
screaming mindlessly for their selfish wants.
Sickly subdued female hands,
male regulated, sans rest,
roll dough in the damp kitchen.
Cool expanse of fresh air
where mind swims free at its best
is hidden by a ceiling of loud hot fans.
The eldest mother of the ungrateful clan
though neglected through her endurance and tests,
was upon the return of her sons, glad.
Whereas husband, youngest son, his sister
watch movies to entertain their guests,
(or themselves) through the endless time-span.
My father’s sister, a running madness
and her not-so-bright grinning husband,
impose on the family every week.
One of the corners, far end of the room,
sits your dutiful observer
with her eyes seldom glancing from the screen,
fingers numb on her lap in tapping activity.
Feed the guests and feed their kid.
Satisfy their ego with politics.
Throw in some praise for the lunatics
lest they begin to talk.
Pot-bellied, we rose to leave,
Thank You for your humanity,
Smiles bursting from my mother’s cheeks,
“We cherish your disheartened company”.

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2 Comments on "Imposed Formalities"

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J.rid
Member

so so true I loved the poem the way you depicted the long suffering of a carer. One day I always say she will have her moment. Excellant observations rolled into a poem

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