Ilene Bauer Poet Rhyme

Mud and Stings

Three wasps or hornets (I'm not clear)
Once stung my brother in his ear.
In memory, I hear his cries
Of shock and pain and pure surprise.

A horde of moms wiped off the blood
And slathered on a coat of mud,
An act my brother did endure,
Intuiting a soothing cure.

My bro was fine; the stings all healed
Yet what this incident revealed
Was how those women somehow knew,
Together, just what they should do.

Those moms are either old or dead
But what they did stuck in my head.
Communal help for one in need
Is recollection-worth, indeed.

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Keith Bickerstaffe July 17, 2015 at 4:56 PM Yes... God bless those moms who always have the answer! In your second verse I loved the use of 'horde' and 'slathered.' Your final two lines hit the nail on the head. BRAVO my dear! Best wishes, Keith

Jan Allison July 15, 2015 at 6:08 PM It is something I will remember now:-) great write as ever:-) hugs Jan xx7