Poetry by Ken Budden

As with many kids, my son (now age 17) got mixed up with a bad bunch. He was caught in possession of drugs, never squealed on the other kids so he was the only one punished and was sent to a Youth Camp for 9 months. He came home, mixed with them again and committed a more serious crime... with them. This time he has been sent to a prison for 3 3/4 years.

As a baby my mother gave me up to the Foundling Hospital in London, and from there I was boarded out to a foster mother. On attaining school age, I and my three foster brothers were sent to a school with hundreds of others in the same plight. It was tough... Nearly 10 years later my birth mother came along and took me out. The transition from an institutional life to a family life was very difficult and try as I could, my life became very unhappy and desperate...even to suicidal tendencies. Less than three years later I had to leave. The years went by with very little contact with my mother...and when we did meet it was always a very strained relationship. Now in her twilight years, nothing has improved, as much as I've tried. We are now at the stage where she no longer wants me in her life in any form and never wants to see me again. There is so much more to tell...