With you I am well pleased,
though it may not seem that way.
You ain’t got to forgive my absence,
because there was no excuse for it.
I’m reaping just what I sowed,
and slaying obstacles each and every day.
The doctors told me that any day
I will pass away.
Son, I want you to know that there
is nothing you could do to earn more
of my love and support.
I’m very sorry I didn’t see you learn
to play your first sport.
I wish I could’ve wrote the perfect
phrase to light your way.
I apologize for not providing
you a loving home to come and stay.
But, you have your paths to walk,
and I have my fate to face for
causing my precious child to feel
lonely and displaced.
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181 Keeping Watch
Each day she watched through her window. Watched? Perhaps an exaggeration: a monochromatic nuclear aftermath remaining of the world, blurring into a blindness--loss of contrast and depth of field. Achromatic aberrations displayed a waste-scape stratified in grays.
By Gerard DiLeo7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (5)
Very well done.
This is very well written!! It's short, but the subtle rhyming scheme makes the lines punch and impact just the right way without needing extra lines to build up those payoffs. The topic itself hits home, but I really liked the POV switch to the neglecting father reflecting rather than a poem about the son, which would have been the more obvious choice. Again, this is a really nice poem! ♥️
He shouldn't even had a son to begin with. I hope he gets what he deserves. Loved your poem!
I'm guessing you went to church yesterday, Christina. (Baptism of the Lord Sunday, Mark 1:11) Ah, but what you did with it, moving it into mouth of an absentee father, perhaps even extending the power of it religiously to Good Friday, the cross, & Jesus', "Eli, Eli, lammah sabachthani?"
Powerful poem, R.P.! Wonderful writing!