• Published : 09 Nov, 2017
  • Comments : 0
  • Category : Poetry
  • Types : Poetry

Three daughters I have.

Can you imagine?

The plight of a single dad?

Driving away useless boyfriends

Sending to rehab for drug addictions

Giving sex education

Walking on egg shells

When period blood cause rebels.

 

Can you even fathom?

The horror

Of so-called 'fashion sense'?

The Eldest Regan

Always in high heels

Short, short mini skirts

Plastered with make-up

One boyfriend a week!

 

The Middle Goneril

A gone one that.

Always wears black

Black tops, black pants, black eye make-up, black lipstick

Heck! She even has black wallpaper and black curtains!

Like she is on a constant look out

For a bloody funeral!

 

The Last Cordelia

Actually don't know much about this one.

A recluse she is.

Holed up in that room

I have almost forgotten her face

What with the constant looking down and over grown bangs!

 

Sometimes I wonder what I should do

How can I get these brats married

When even getting them to go to school everyday is a damn battle field!

 

Reagan, I'd rather that one didn't even go!

Considering how her skirts seem to be decreasing in size as days go by

(Is that even possible?)

 

And then Goneril,

Just fits in with the misfits!

Worried about that one I am

With all the blending-in black

I would not be surprised if she quit school

And set out to do ninja training at this point!

 

Half the morning spent

In searching, simply searching

For Cordelia!

That child just disappears!

More like becomes thin air!

Scary.

 

But they are not all bad.

Even if the worry might give me heart attacks!

 

Regan, a sports freak, despite her appearance

(Prejudice all around)

Won every race she competed in!

My national star!

 

Goneril, despite the emo stuff

Loves animals,

Even if she looks like death is her boyfriend for life

Helps out at the shelter everyday.

A sight that one.

All that dark fabric surrounded by fluffy pups and cute kittens!

 

And Cornelia.

That introvert.

Can not talk properly.

Anti-social, socially awkward!

But. She can express herself.

Oh yes she can!

Give her some paint, and see wonder unravel before your very eyes.

My baby, she has so much to say

Has won every art competition she competed in!

 

My daughters

My living paradoxes

My darlings.

It pains me more

To think one day, other men might take these wonders away from me.

 

This ladies and gentlemen.

Is the fun, happy, quirky, weird, hectic

King Lear household!

About Author

Mary Monika

Member Since: 07 Nov, 2017

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