No Jeopardy But Me
The Steppers have gone,
Stepped onto their parallels,
Multiverse Earths,
Nirvanas, or hells.
And we’re left behind,
We, the unsteppable,
Sub-human luddites
And wholly forgettable.
My parents and sister
Have forged for a new life
A thousand-plus worlds
From Datum’s own strife –
They ran off to suburbs,
(And took all the chairs),
Where there’s fewer of my sort,
And plenty of theirs.
But me, I must lump it,
I’m not worth the saving,
I don’t get to witness
The future they’re braving.
They’ve promised to visit,
Each decade or so,
And write me,
Though post is so terribly slow.
And when they return here,
It’s only to teach
To their kids how to sneer,
And to pity, and preach.
I’m clearly not favourite,
Just a mistake,
I’m easy to leave
When I’m too hard to take.
Despised by my authors,
Abandoned to rot,
I’m just a disposable
Cog in the plot,
I’m holding you back,
So you cut your son loose –
With a smile from your god
To condone your abuse.
Rhyming Couplets 
Wow.. this gave me goosebumps. So much feeling.
LikeLike
Thanks Sheri. I feel I took away the wrong message from the novel than the one the authors intended, rather like siding with Bertha Mason over Jane. I likewise remember getting frustrated with how incompetent Doctor Watson was made to be, just so that his supposed friend could smugly put him right.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hey, despite the authors intention, I think it’s better that we all experience a book differently.. It would be awfully boring if not.
LikeLike
Hang on…does that mean you’re all viewing my poems through a different lens than the ones I so meticulously polished…? But then, I guess I always knew I was at the mercy of my readership…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Most likely. We all lack the same experiences and perspectives so I doubt the exact intention and emotion of the writer could ever be fully understood. But that’s one of the wonderful things about writing.. it’s a one-of-a-kind kind of thing for each reader.
LikeLike