I'm not sure this qualifies as a poem. I have been working for a week or two now on something that seems to me more like a poem. I guess I always figured a real one should involve hard work. This one didn't. Not even any meter, rhythm or rhyme. A musing only, really. I decided to post it anyways - even as just a whisper. Some whispers echo.
Jeremiah
My father used to bring me to school. I'd ask him to drop me off around the block. I didn't think the other kids would understand. He always had a look on his face, when I asked him. I don't think he judged me - he was just sad.
He'd offer to bring me to work. I'd politely refuse. I didn't need his help. The other guys seemed to do ok on their own. I was young.
As the years went by, I fell in love. I invited him to the wedding, quietly. I'm not sure if he came - I never looked for him. Too many other things were more important. I'm sure he understood.
Married life wasn't what I thought it would be. I was still young. He'd offer to help - if only just to listen. I'd politely refuse. Maybe he could have helped when I was younger.
One day, I had my own son. He adored my father, then. My son grew. My father used to bring him to school. I was too busy. He would drop my son off around the block. I think the other kids would have understood. I didn't judge my son - I was just sad.
I grew old. I started to miss my child-hood days. I stumbled upon my old back-pack. There was a note in there, from my father. He used to give me lots of them. It said that he would never leave or forsake me. There was a P.S. at the bottom. It said: "No matter what". I wept.
I talked to him that night. I didn't realize he was such a good listener. He seemed to understand a lot. I tried to apologize. I shouldn't have been ashamed of him. He wept.
My son didn't invite us to his wedding. His mind was on other things, I'm sure. I understand. I'll love him anways.
Jeremiah~~this was a bittersweet reminiscence. It reminded me of the Harry Chapin song, "Cat's in the Cradle". It reads well as a free verse poem. Very nice. ~~lb~~
"Me, my thoughts are flower strewn, ocean storm, bayberry moon; I have got to leave to find my way..." REM
Posts: 1915 | Location: somewhere over the rainbow | Registered: 06-30-02
Jeremiah, gosh I'm glad you posted this without reworking/rewording it. You've given witness to a fathers love in the most raw and honest way and like luvleetasha, I have tears.
It's an account that makes me look at my own life and say 'what is real' in all this ordinary-ness.
Thanks for being spontaneous and generous with yourself this morning, Jeremy!
Posts: 3724 | Location: Brisbane, Australia | Registered: 07-26-02
I am going to tell this....this in my opinion is as great as the poem FootPrints.....do yourself a favor frame this and send it out to the world because in our lifetime poets write a few great things and this is yours....this is probably one if not the greatest poem Quoteland has ever seen....Please get this out to the world......
Footprints in the Sand
One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord. Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky. In each scene I noticed footprints in the sand. Sometimes there were two sets of footprints, other times there were one set of footprints.
This bothered me because I noticed that during the low periods of my life, when I was suffering from anguish, sorrow or defeat, I could see only one set of footprints.
So I said to the Lord, "You promised me Lord, that if I followed you, you would walk with me always. But I have noticed that during the most trying periods of my life there have only been one set of footprints in the sand. Why, when I needed you most, you have not been there for me?"
The Lord replied, "The times when you have seen only one set of footprints in the sand, is when I carried you." Mary Stevenson
This message has been edited. Last edited by: Rico,
Rico Gavin Gabrielle/ Julian Alexander May 11. 2003- June 3, 2003 Gavin Gabrielle Knox (Reborn) March 21, 2004 Raw, gutsy, and in-your-face. are words that have been used. To me they describe exactly what Rico is all about. Don't ever change………comments from Songbird in the poem “ Walking Through Hell” Rico-style Unmatched - unsurpassed......Rhon831 from the poem "My Fruit" :breathless: ...... Concerned Brotha from the poem "Formality" When you see the name 'Rico' - you think of Poetry Knockout from the poem "My Fruit" MLK Jr. meets Kanye Gamzplayer from '' a Safe Poem"
Posts: 1362 | Location: Atlanta, GA | Registered: 08-19-02
This poem captures the essence of the relationship but it is a bit painful to read. Good Job and keep it up. This forum needs new blood and some fresh poets.
The summer is a woman and June is her name. I embrace her like a new bride and love her with the heart of a mighy stag.
Posts: 2565 | Location: The Volunteer State | Registered: 06-25-03
LB Free Verse is a noble art, which I find my own hand to be wholly inadequate to at present. Yet I will plod on in my efforts, with your own works ever serving as a guiding light. I owe you a double debt of thanks, for your encouragement and for your example.
Dawn You have seen to the heart of the matter. This piece was, indeed, born from a reflection on 'the Love that will not let us go'. Instead of making it a purely 'Christian' piece though, which wouldn't likely be of value to all readers, I thought it more useful to draw it out in parallel. The desire of being offered unconditional love is common to every human heart, as is the pain we bear when it isn't offered and when we fail to offer it ourselves. But it is exactly this pain that 'provokes us to good works'. As your own testimony proves, 'those who are forgiven much, love much' - and that is the great and universal story.
Trish It is always a difficulty for me - though I doubt I'm alone - to post a work without what I would consider 'sufficient polish'. All too often, in a concern for form, I lose focus on who exactly I am writing for and what intented good I am pursuing. Once in a while, despite myself, I do remember - usually, because of a comment just like yours. Thank you!
Rico I have been unpardonably late in addressing the responses to this work, owing mostly to my inability to know how to properly meet yours. 'Footprints' is a treasured work which has helped inumerable hearts through unimaginable amounts of grief. Comparing it to my own my own meager offering is far too high of a compliment for me to accept; however, to simply say that your words are too kind would be disingenious, for hope does run deep in me. I have long made it my purpose to write as often and as well as I can, in the aim of doing the best possible good. If ever my words do meet with success, it will certainly not be on account of any merit which I can attribute to myself, but rather on the foundation of such profound encouragement. Thank you, my brother. Thank you.
PD I fear I have loitered in these halls for far too long to rightfully be considered 'new blood' anymore, but I will do my best to avoid being stale
All My apologies for bumping this thread to the top after so lengthy an absence. I will be dilligent in attending to others' posts over the next few days in compensation.
This is so good it made me wept. This couldn't come in a better time either. I was just a father (again) and I just lost my grandfather. I absorbed this poetry like a sponge ... I read it over and over as it consumed me and washed over me. Everything about this poem is just right ... and blended together so deliciously. Not too corny ... not too emotional ... not too sentimental ... it was just right.
You couldn't finish this poem any better.
"Nunc Scio Quit Sit Amor" But it's still not premarital sex if you don't plan on getting married
