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Poetry Magnum Opus

Broken Homes


dedalus
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Your hair is flowing, fluttering,

as you cross the forecourt

and when you open wide your arms,

I gaze perplexed, even vexed,

before we hug; and then I shrug

and invite you lamely through the door:

my darling girl, you are something more

than ever I expected.


How long, how long has it been

since I held you as a little girl,

and told you stories. extolled the glories

of the matchless Gael: the beauty of the women,

the fearless hearts of the men?

And then you would hold my hand with your fingers,

say, "Daddy, Daddy, tell me again!"


Our finances at the time were sinking

and then your mother got to thinking

it was time to make a change: so she left me flat,

like that, took up with her planned other man,

and of course she took you from me.

I was broken into bits,left alone with the cat,

"Face it", she said, "you're just bloody hopeless".


I agreed, for a while I wished I were dead,

theoretically, and looked longingly at the flowing Thames

but thought "Nah, you'd only get cold and very wet"

and other plans of despatch escaped me.

I was lucky, I suppose, for I was able to get

progressively better jobs, leaving behind the yobs


and so go prancing and dancing among the elite

with some fearful shifts in my elocution

(which can lead, in Ireland, to execution)

so I watched my dis and dat and dese and dose

and with a certain dexterity of the feet

ended up,nothing to it, on Irish talk shows.


But here we are now, as you enter the room,

which I think I I cleared up and cleaned to obsession,

and I offer you wine (three expensive bottles, bought yesterday)

but you decline and ask for tea.

Daddy, can you tell me one of your stories?

Sit back, child, set aside any fear,

I will tell you the tale of the Children of Lír.


-----------------------------------------


And if you have never heard it, here is the story:


Drown your sorrows in drink, by all means, but the real sorrows can swim

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Poignantly beautiful or beautifully poignant -- take your pic.

 

This:

 

other plans of despatch

 

And:

 

progressively better jobs, leaving behind the yobs

 

Very inventive.

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I like the human warmth and spin you put on an all too often difficult situation. Veering from the personal to more general, with inferences such as, "with some fearful shifts in my elocution (which can lead, in Ireland, to execution)" is masterly. Well done. G.

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It's a wonderful story of what really matters in life, beautifully told. No nits or attitude. ;)

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It is deeply moving. I am in that situation, and this brings up those emotions.

 

Well well done

thegateless.org Come on over and check out my poetry substack y'all;-) Or if your bored, head to the Zazzle store: https://www.zazzle.com/store/gateless. If you buy anything I lose a bet, so consider that before you violate the digital rules.

 

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Thanks, lads. This is a what-might-have-been piece. My wife (being a sensible person and far more attuned to normal life than me) has threatened to divorce me umpteen times. I would fade away and die if she did.

 

I am very sorry, Juris, to hear you are in this kind of real situation. The pain of separation from one's children is a very hard thing to bear, far harder in most cases than separation from their mother!! I hope you have worked out some sort of amenable agreement which allows you contact. My heart goes out to you.

 

All the best.

Brendan

Drown your sorrows in drink, by all means, but the real sorrows can swim

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