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Sons and Lovers

So you speak of sons and lovers?

The Oedipus complex,

boy falls in love with mother.

Yet then in a bird’s-eye way

the view from my window shows

a boy whose heart I know.

His radiant smile,

all knowing tender touch

I love so much.

Like his father.

Did Freud have it right?

About sexuality, personality?

I know only that D.H. Lawrence portrayed classically

the borders of insanity.

Individuality, paradoxically is tied up with family.

Our values and kin permeate our skins

through to our hearts.

Like acid on old wounds,

until the white flame of love erodes.

Expressions of innocence have ho dissidents.

But doubt and fear when the end seems near.

Eradicated, until in temperate times a new hope grows

like dynamite, rebirth, unearthed always aglow.

About Geraldine Ward

Geraldine Ward has been writing and performing various forms of poetry and prose from an early age, and is a regular contributor at the London Farrago Poetry Slam nights. She has published a number of books including the "Now" collection, and has featured in other publications including Katie Metcalfe's "Beautiful Scruffiness" series of magazines.


One thought on “Sons and Lovers

  1. I love, “Like acid on old wounds.” That really gets it!

    Posted by alanyount | February 25, 2014, 12:37 pm

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