Seven Brothers Poem by Teresita Blanco

Seven Brothers

by Teresita Blanco

Seven sons, of seven fathers.

Seven brothers, one mother.

Their legend travels far. 

Their youngest bears scars.

His kindness lies hardened.

He sings to the moon,

He brings only doom!

Now, the second, “wait a second!”

He’s the sharpest,

He’s the smartest.

He’s the fastest.

Trigger happy of the lot.

The third son,

He is known by none.

Like a mist

He brings bliss,

Like a serpent, here he comes!

Now the fourth!

He is a force!

Not so witty, very icky,

The most greedy

Brother and son!

As for the fifth,

He never gets hitched!

His ill grimace

Is a hindrance.

His heart shivers

Whenever a ,he, quivers!

The sixth son, the strong son!

Bears a deadly duty

To a lost cause,

His burning heart

Withers all tempests.

Always in a hurry!

Only for she does he pause.

And the final son,

The uncarved block.

The angel of death.

No one is left

With sufficient daring

To refuse his darling.

Her cold whims

Are his beck and calling.

Hardly ever do they gather!

The sons of seven fathers!

Seven killers

Poured their elixir

Into the same

Tainted cauldron.

Seven fathers, seven sons,

Bounded by her shame!

Copyright Teresita Blanco

You do not have permission to use my poems without my express written consent.