What can I say... I've said it all in this poem, I think.  Some people find it hard to understand,  but I should explain that unfortunately my mother and I had a turbulent relationship.




TRAITS I DO NOT WANT

 

Sometimes, when I'm the least expectant,
I catch the bathroom mirror lying -
Reflecting who I do not want to see.

There are words I can clearly hear
All these many years past the passing
In a voice that is not mine, but hers.

In moments of quiet contemplation
As when I slip towards my sleep
I hear her shout out my name.

These are imprints cast upon my brain
That it seems time cannot erase
Nor new experiences overwrite.

My wife, in innocence, will say
"You sound just like your mother"
And inside myself I wither

I become a lesser version of myself.
Part of me knows it might be true
Because part of me is a genetic copy.

She was the nursery for my soul
And whilst I was so confined
I was embued with an indelible magma

Cells were conjugated to form a bed

Blood became the living contract

A leasehold for just nine months.

 

Thereafter with initial influence

A long gone thing of the past

Still her fingerprints remain...

 

... on my nucleotides.

 

 

 

 

© griffonner 2026





Poetry by Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 34 times
Written on 2026-06-24 at 12:11

Tags Duality  Genetics  Disparity 

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Melinda K Zarate The PoetBay support member heart!
Allen, I understand. I can still hear my mother’s voice with her criticisms of me. Your poem expresses both the heartache and the moments when we see our parents in ourselves and flinch. However, I know that in those moments of recognition, when we take a step back to reflect, we grow past their words to prove them wrong. My hope is that I consistently showed more love and understanding towards my own children than she did to me.

Sincerely,
Melinda
2026-06-24


Clara Mae Gregory The PoetBay support member heart!
This poem's verses are very creative. A unique expression that hits the heart strings. We all had or have mothers-- but not all received an enduring, nurturing relationship with their own mothers. My mother had strengths and weaknesses. My parents eventually became alcoholics and it cut their lives short. In that sense, I never wanted to be like my mom. I do not consume alcohol and I feel great.
2026-06-24


arquious The PoetBay support member heart!
Oh, my Allen. So relatable and sure the nuanced differences still allow for empathetic communion.
2026-06-24


mickeko The PoetBay support member heart!
I have my own understanding of this kind of relation. You probably need as much advising about it as I do, so I will give none. But no matter what anyone says (this includes the mirror), you're the lead smith of what will be your past tomorrow.
2026-06-24


Albert Vynckier The PoetBay support member heart!
if it was only that, I had turmoil with my mother and my stepfather too
2026-06-24