Family Tree

I had an uncle once who earned a medal in the war,
And his son, big Don, killed the woman next door.
My Grandad painted pictures that hung on London walls,
A tiny man, they said no height at all.
My mother’s side was noble, touched with royal blood,
A king whoever he was did what kings often would.
Nothing changes much, it’s still the same today.
My father’s line runs deeper, stretching far away.
In 1678, beside a mill and lake,
He made his fortune grinding flour for the bake.
My family tree remains a puzzle to me.
I’ll close the book and let it be.





Poetry by JohnJohn
Read 146 times
Written on 2026-07-26 at 19:35

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text


Melinda K Zarate The PoetBay support member heart!
Interesting poem. Genealogy is fun but is so puzzling especially when one reaches a dead end.

Plus with DNA, people are finding surprises in their family trees.
2026-07-27


Alan J Ripley The PoetBay support member heart!
My brother thought he'd drop a bombshell by telling me ,
By telling me dad had been married before.
I think he was more shocked when I told him, "I know ".
2026-07-27