Momma in a box,
Momma in a box,
Dressed in Sunday’s best
without any socks

Little boy, little boy,
watch your momma die.
Pump her full of dope
and the family full of hope.

Doctor, Doctor,
Whatcha gonna do?
Your momma’s gonna die
before the month is through.

Gimme Lord, gimme Lord
just one more day…
I can’t walk away
’til I hear my Momma say –

I won’t go away boy,
I won’t go away,
I’ll always be around
just to hear you say –

Love you Momma, love you Momma,
all that I can…
love you every day Momma,
’til I become a man.

But Momma’s in the ground
and her life’s in lost and found.
Never had a chance
for her to be around.

Tell me God, tell me God  –
’cause I’ve been wonderin’
why’d you bring us here
through all this plunderin’?

Others walk around
smiling life through,
but I only wonder
WTF is wrong with you……

© 2014 John Allen Richter

About johnallenrichter

I am an aspiring Poet and adorer of life, a conqueror of nothing. However I am a champion curator of truth and friendship and hold both of those things most dearly to my heart. Welcome to my mind's eye. I hope you will enjoy what you may find and please know that you have a friend here. View all posts by johnallenrichter

8 responses to “Wondering

  • ladynyo

    Strong poem, John. In can relate…as when my father died. My mother at 94 is a narcissist, and these people are very hard to grow up with.

    And thank you for ‘liking’ my post “Courage to Create”. I decided to post it regardless the howl from certain quarters. That is what recovery looks like.

    Lady Nyo

  • Victoria C. Slotto

    Wow–at first I thought it was going to be a child’s poem. The cadence, the rhyme–great, sobering touch of irony.

  • brian miller

    dang john….quite sad…put me in the moment of my MIL dying…really i was hoping she died quick because she was so twisted and broken…ugh…

  • Gabriella

    Very powerful write! I guess a parent’s death can be very different depending on the relation we had with them.

  • johnallenrichter

    Thank you all. My mother died when I was 18. Even though our last years together were a bit tumultuous – I was a head strong teenager and testing a lot of social waters – she still remains the most influential person in my life. Watching her die of lung cancer is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Since then I’ve seen countless others go through the same ordeal. The sickening mess of radiation therapy and chemotherapy… Sweet Victoria, the world is a messy place. W try and try to sweep things under the carpet to hide them from our children. But the truth is that this indeed is a children’s poem. As well as for those of us who often get temporarily tied up in life and forget the important things. Loving one another is the gold standard, and sometimes it takes the “f” word to ring that bell loudly enough because the bell is all too often filled with shit – making us forget about love. My father used to say “You need to learn the difference between shit and shinola, boy.” Well, I like to think that I have…..

  • ManicDdaily

    Hi John, this is like a blues song in its tenor and content and very affecting. So sorry for your loss. Thanks for the poem. K.

  • vivienne blake

    A powerful message comes through this poem written in simple language. Bravo.

  • Sean Michael

    I like your poetry, Mr. Richter. The last line of this one struck me, because I once began a poem with similar sentiments, but never got around to finishing it. You have deep insights into family tragedy, which must mean you’ve experienced your share of it. Poetry is great way to deal with it. A friend of mine shared this thought with me, “Any fool can be happy. It takes a man with real heart to make beauty out of the stuff that makes us weep.”

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