The Wretch

Tweedle dee and tweedle dumb

My brothers born of a different mum

Two pigtail pullers

I abhor, at best

Half-sibling squabbles

And all the rest

Oft, Father says, "Please, don't fight"

We kick and scream, scratch and bite

Willful children; not such a delight

Til a fateful evening, we did unite

'Tis a tale, prompting fright

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A full moon, it was a werewolf's dream

Heightened howling; gold moonbeam

Transition, motion, morphing; trance

vibrations changed three babe's stance

In retrospect, we had not one chance

Here is a snippet, a mere glance

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On this night of routine grapples

Our actions deemed us rotten apples

At peak conniption

Face painted red

Father screamed, "Enough!"

"Upstairs, to your rooms, into bed"

Dear mum looked wounded,

As if needing stitches

My brothers and I deemed

Too big for our britches

Three mouthy kids sent off to bed

While father consoled mother, holding her head

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Deep into the night, the most curious noise

Disturbed the resting of me and the boys

Tweedle dee, dumb, and I tiptoed down the hall

Following the harrowing cries, the most heinous call

Snort, coughing, snarl; whimper, growl, teeth gnashing

A faint smell of wet dog sent the three of us dashing

Into our parent's room to a sight most unsmashing

We discovered a confused, contorted canine context

Stay tuned for what happens next...

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We found father rocking in his chair of wickers

Relighting his cigarette, the monotonous lighter flickers

Nearby stood mum in bright pink knickers

Half human, half wolf; the human part snickers

"Mum is leaving the hurtful bickers"

**********************************************************

Startled in silence, we observed one wretched

Transform to Canis Lupis; unbelievable, far fetched

Bone cracking, fur morphed; indeed self sketched

Mum set herself free from emotions long stretched

Hence, environs equal sirens

Forbearing a creature

Etch by etch by etch...

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My poem comes from two influences.

I have four Adult children born to two different fathers, and when they were younger, they bickered a lot about foolish things. Sometimes, these occurrences made me feel like a failure as a mum and there were instances when the arguing deeply hurt me.

As a vivid dreamer, I often dream of the supernatural; werewolves, magic, fantasy lands, and makeshift worlds.

My poem is a combination of feelings felt in the natural world coupled with dream state instances.