Sorry

Poem By Ronald Stuart Thomas

Dear parents,
I forgive you my life,
Begotten in a drab town,
The intention was good;
Passing the street now,
I see still the remains of sunlight.

It was not the bone buckled;
You gave me enough food
To renew myself.
It was the mind's weight
Kept me bent, as I grew tall.

It was not your fault.
What should have gone on,
Arrow aimed from a tried bow
At a tried target, has turned back,
Wounding itself
With questions you had not asked.

Comments about Sorry

Almost all thinking people have been pierced by this arrow, no matter what their childhood.


Rating Card

3,2 out of 5
24 total ratings

Other poems of THOMAS

Ninetieth Birthday

You go up the long track
That will take a car, but is best walked
On slow foot, noting the lichen
That writes history on the page

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Who said to the trout,
You shall die on Good Friday
To be food for a man
And his pretty lady?

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It is a matter of a black cat
On a bare cliff top in March
Whose eyes anticipate
The gorse petals;

Evans

Evans? Yes, many a time
I came down his bare flight
Of stairs into the gaunt kitchen
With its wood fire, where crickets sang

Here

I am a man now.
Pass your hand over my brow.
You can feel the place where the brains grow.

An Old Man

Looking upon this tree with its quaint pretension
Of holding the earth, a leveret, in its claws,
Or marking the texture of its living bark,
A grey sea wrinkled by the winds of years,