A Father's Lament

1 Comments

A Father's Lament

It was to be the time of my life

but no wife

equals no rights

in this paternal fight the parental guide

left me outside to weather the stormy ride

 

do the right thing

pay your way

they say

 

maybe then you’ll be respected

not a father rejected

fatherhood neglected

 

when I just want to play

paddy-cake and make-believe

listen in awe to invisible things

dream the dark clouds away

 

yes, my child

mommy says I can stay

if only for an hour

no, not today

 

stereotypes convince

condense and convict

shaping conflicts

irresolute

irregardless of truth

irrespective of sense..

 

..and sensibilities fade over time

..and your word supercedes mine

..and I suffer the time

for a crime that’s not mine

 

but the child is..

the child is..

 

who suffers the most when

approached with a host of goodbye’s

and father-less why’s

 

generations wither and die inside

the heart shrivels

blood loss more evident now

in the present

 

how

lost sons and daughters become

riddles

while the world ridicule’s the individual

man

condemned to flat notes and muted chords

a new tune

call it dead beat

 

because money is more important

than time

..and as interaction declines

the relationship’s strained

..and in time

I become a stranger to a child

that is mine

 

an imposter of kinds

the variable in an otherwise constant equation

where balance is assumed but

energy wasted

 

the birth place of hatred

for authority

pretty soon they will abhor you

too

much like you ignore me

as I march

to that dead beat

 

lifeless

empty

weak

 

do not deny me life’s greatest event

the curse must end

 

I rehearsed the thoughts yet

u contend the delivery

and I rage against the propagated theory

of tender years

and maternal instinct vs ability

 

when the truth is

a child must have both

u and I

to be complete

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Arizona commented on A Father's Lament

02-08-2010

I absolutely loved the flow of this piece. I also could feel the em0tions throughout. The is beautiful.

Poetry is what gets lost in translation.

Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

propheteye’s Poems (4)

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A Father's Lament 1