( Note: a bit of “House on the Hill” by Edward Arlington Robinson – a nod to Oedipus in this stab at playing around with my take on a villanelle – I played around a bit - added words to the final lines and changed the first two second line rhymes to mimic House on the Hill.)
Grown and Flown Away – Matricide in modernity
My son has grown and flown away His ringtone silent, long now still There is he says nothing more to say
He lives behind an enmity of gray Beyond all pleadings, talk and why and will My son has grown and flown away
Cast me as though dead each day I cannot revoke love nor maternity There is nothing more to say
Why is it that the words still play In ever thronging bonging possibility My son has grown and flown away
Posits and poetry flutter and lay He cannot read what he will not see There is I suppose nothing more to say
What would the Oracle say of this modern matricidal display Irrevocable, inviolable love blood borne by him – incredibly My son. My son has grown and somehow flown away It simply cannot be that there is nothing more to say
His ringtone silent, long now still
There is he says nothing more to say
Beyond all pleadings, talk and why and will
My son has grown and flown away
I cannot revoke love nor maternity
There is nothing more to say
In ever thronging bonging possibility
My son has grown and flown away
He cannot read what he will not see
There is I suppose nothing more to say
Irrevocable, inviolable love blood borne by him – incredibly
My son. My son has grown and somehow flown away
It simply cannot be that there is nothing more to say