Tag Father

Projection – dVerse

freyathewriter 17 Comments

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i blamed it on you

all the less-important-than

all the i’m-not-good-enough-for

sometimes it’s easier than –

easier than – owning it myself.

No, being honest, not just sometimes.

always.

I stared balefully at you whilst you were lying there

almost-but-not-quite hating you from the depths of my F-d up love

for doing it again (again)

for leaving without so much as a goodbye

– this time

the one where there’s no turning back.

It wasn’t you though.

You didn’t put those thoughts in my head,

it was my internal compass seeking magnetic north

and finding south –

as per.

So, I own my thoughts now

they’re mine.

All mine.

You’re pretty much off the hook, as you should have been from the beginning.

 

I’m a bit late to the party of the final day of the dVerse 5th anniversary celebrations, but hopefully better late than never!

We have the joy of an interview with Anthony Desmond, get to read one of his great poems and are encouraged to write on the subject of a belief that we have realised is no longer true, or our feelings when pressured to change our minds. Quite a subject!

Here’s my offering, I hope you find it interesting. Catharsis is the order of the day at the moment.

Please do head on over to dVerse to read the interview with Anthony, read the poetry created by the talented dVerse bunch and… why not have a go yourself?

 

 

The Man Who… dVerse Poetics – Character Study

freyathewriter 15 Comments

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The man who took me on
as part of the deal
The man who never once
made me feel –

in the way,
unwanted, not cared for

The man who carved lanterns
for Halloween fun
The man who made theatres
and allowed me to run –

matters off-stage,
free reign, made miniature

The man who was there, quiet
in my background
The man who loved me
as if he had found –

my small heart
and held it, so gently

A man who I love
admire and respect
A man who I hope
will only reflect –

that he fashioned a good life
for a daughter, pre-made

From the bottom of my heart
For the man who…

Today over on dVerse, our guest host Walter Wojtanik asks us to write about the character or characters who have influenced our lives – the good, the bad, and maybe the ugly. Whoever and however they may be, he invites us to write about them. Why not pop over and see what Walter has to say, and take part?

I first posted the poem above back in November 2013, and I am unashamedly recycling it, because this particular man, my step-dad, has been a rock for our entire family, never making me, his only step-child, feel anything other than his. He never treated me differently to my brother and sister, has never done anything other than be my parent, and a wonderful one at that. When I wrote this poem, I was 5 months down the line from losing my dad. it was a horrible, horrible time. Little did I know that whilst all that was going on, my step-dad was going through some really tough health problems, which were very hard for my mum as well. She and he have pulled through it – they are a strong and tough act. I admire them both greatly, love them dearly and count myself lucky to have them both in my life.

By the way, the photo above is a small part of my parents’ garden… 🙂

Cicatrix – Sunday Mini Challenge – Real Toads

freyathewriter 19 Comments

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The image of you has softened over time
I see you, prostrate, as if through film star soft-focus
Still, at last, still, forever
and yet if I push myself through that ghost-laden portal
I know that you have taken on a different form
you are transformed into no more than

Ash

Dispersed on the winds
I breathe you in
You become part of me in more than the accepted ways, Dad
Your death doesn’t hurt in the way it once did
No longer lacerates, no longer eviscerates

Stigmata

But I am left behind
But I am in sorrow for the missed opportunities
But I am swallowed by regret that I
can never have that conversation
Never explain that I understand you better

Never confess that I judged you too harshly

Never reveal that there is so much more of you in me

than I ever cared to admit or wanted then

Never tell you that I welcome that

Now

But, at least, the knife-edge cicatrix
of the loss of you has faded
I can smile at the thought of you
because I think of you

Often

 

This was inspired by the prompt found over at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, where we are encouraged to write about something that is both harrowing, and hallowed. A challenging prompt, for sure, but it helps to write about these things, to transfer the ever-whirling thoughts to print, at least for a while.

Why not pop on over to the Real Toads blog, and take a look, take part?