I
I knew this old man, he had no lines upon his hands
Neither from left to right nor right to left
From breadth to heights nor heights to breadth
I pondered this I pondered that
As poets will I wandered
wandering still I sat
My hands at times almost clasped
laid upon my lap
Although at times
palms, like opened cradles
with bending elbows
remained; locked on my desk,
to keep the boring looking busy
...smoothly holding up my head
Then one day;
while reaching for a pen to hold
(before my eyes should yawn once more)
I remembered a few words of old
words of a mothers love.
Words it seemed from yesterday
words from long ago.
"One day will come," my son
"You will meet this man
This man
You will already know."
"Everything, this man had ever really known
he will have been told."
"Every thing this man had ever really had
he will have been hand fed."
Also, "Everywhere this man was ever led
his will had needs to follow.”
II
Then Looking up, I saw my daughter
her waiting patience,
important quivering lips,
releasing floods upon my ears.
Yes, her words, words of a once
words my youngest daughter spoke
of a where and of a when.
Not as questions are asked
...again and again,
rather as only little girls are capable.
Stories of 'as a matter of fact'
another pulled from her little world
of why she was so often moved
...within her mother’s womb.
“Neither restlessness nor needs to leave
...or other silly things"
“Rather, something much more simply
complicated than those things”
“Oh daddy, do you not remember
those games inside?" she said.
When angels would swim by
just within our out-stretched reach?
Then grasping their soft angel wings?”
“Our laughing and our giggling?
“So many feathers dad,”
her look, so small, so serious
“So many feathers I had," she said,
"yet dad, the most I ever held
was all that I could hold.”
“I wish,” she began, “the angels daddy,”
then a moment so sad,
“Daddy, I just wish that they would come around
A little bit more often though.”
She came towards me,
her voice, so quickly quiet
…"Daddy,
I want to tell you something
one of my very secret things
but only if you hold this daddy
and keep it to yourself, promise me?"
Sometimes, after I’ve had a great day
when I’m in my bed at night.
After I’ve held you close
after you’ve tucked me in real tight.
After gentle kisses on my cheeks
while saying that you love me, at least twice,
And I know you really do because daddy,
always, you leave on that little light.
Well every now and then
after you’ve left my room
just as I’m to fall asleep
If I’m listening just right
I can still hear my angels, whispering.
Their playing still their grabbing games,
games of, be- held and of behold.
Oh, how I love to hear them laughing
(even if only now in whispers)
they make me giggle so.
Their breath, it tickles me
softly, angels in my ears
like lightly touching feathers.
When I feel my body shiver, then
I know from there to here
I will surely have good dreams,
and finally, when I do awake
I’ll awake to feathers falling!
Ohm, daddy; how could you forget?”
III
My envy and my sadness,
Reflected in green eyes,
She is so beautiful.
To be so far away and yet to be so close
and I so wide yet also very closed.
So deep her lines, so soft her touch
when with her own sweet hands
she would take hold of mine.
Just as angels following her
with offerings of feathers.
"Too many," as she would say,
'some must let go,' sometimes.
"Dad, is all that we can ever hold
really all that we have held?"
"All we could ever know?"
IV
Yes I miss her, my little girl
I am not alone, I know.
Now I understand,
now I can better see
through many falling tears
Angels they also grieve.
Grieving our swift years,
I pick them up every night,
feathers upon pillows.
These sorrows, mine and theirs,
lately even spilling
spilled onto the floor.
I pick them up more and more.
As if to say, "you stay,
no needs leaving there."
Where Angels come in dreams
you are never far from me."
Yes, her angels
they must miss her also .
...Her laughing and her giggling
I pondered this I pondered that,
as fathers will I wondered,
while wondering I grasped.
Warm memories of that old man,
although now,
sharp lines defined young hands.
Lines I thought once fate deprived
were somehow left, one day behind.
In that place perhaps
his time would not find.
Lost within… forgotten fades.
Lines, that cross,
his burden's creased,
from wanting needs held,
whether well or not.
Creviced etchings, pale
drawings from wells of deep,
whether held or dropped.
Yes honey, my hands, I see,
yes my faults... my vanities.
Yes honey, my stories.
Then firmly reaching out
I grabbed my writing pen.
As I wrote what could have been, finally,
I felt the pains
as life’s lines bend.
Then,
well then
I cried for that old man.
Michael Perritano
Author notes
I was looking at my life lines upon my hands when I realized that they are merely bending scars, creases and folds from taking what I need. I wondered, what would it mean if I had no life lines-of course that would mean I had become afraid to take.
A contest entry
- Celebrate with Me In Completion of a Goal by earthstar.
450 points, ended October 17, 2007, 11 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - GIVE ME YOUR BEST by sanguigno.
1100 points, ended February 15, 83 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - PRWRITE CONTEST FOR ALL by serenity silvermoon.
900 points, ended August 2, 1024 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Just make it amazing! by X.brokenlover.X.
977 points, ended November 18, 305 entries
• next poem in this contest, • Add to finalists list, or remove from contest - Best of the Allpoetriers by wandyway.
550 points, ends December 1, 85 entries
• next poem in this contest, • Add to finalists list, or remove from contest
Comments
1 - 15 of 15
-
i hardly dare breath...lest i somehow break the spell...this is hear stoppinng...life changing and utterly utterly beautiful
-
-
thank you so much- i really enjoyed writing this.
-
-
I never came across such good poetry as yet
There is a special touch in your writes that follows the reader as long as he reads
You write in simple language and yet so effective and that is a gift
I am glad I came across you dear poet
Enjoyed reading you
-
i remember this .. my little one had her father's blue eyes. oh this makes me sing to think of little girls in heaven.
-
This is absolutely beautiful you have a raw talent that you should never let go of. Thank you for entering
-
This read more story than poem to me. A very good read tho, I liked the ending. Thanks for entering and good luck
-
All this perfect written picture needs is a golden frame loved it from beginning to end.
-
Well I would have preferred this to be written in paragraph form but this was still a good read nonetheless. Very deep and makes the reader think. Good job & thanks for entering
-
Oh daddy, do you not remember
those games inside?" she said
When angels would swim by
just within our out-stretched reach
Then grasping their soft angel wings?”
“Our laughing and our giggling?
I love how the scene unfolds one feel as if they are sharing the scene with the writer.I love the story it very in depth and not a casual read.It does touch the heart strings and capture the heart. Great read. -
beautifully written
with alot of feeling and emotion
lovely write you have penned here...........
flowed wonderfully and very smoothly also....................
thank you so much for entering such a wonderful piece into my contest!!!!!!
good luck and much love!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! -
This is more a story, than a poem. Maybe you should try and make a poem out of this story.
A fascinating read.
Thank you for entering.
Maria -
wow
wow
AMAZINGLY BEAUTIFULL!
-
Wow! This is so deep and poetic...there is so much happening in it that it's amazing. I just loved it. It is absolutly beautiful. Certainly what I was looking for for my angels option. Keep up the good writing and thanks for entering.
Goodluck in my contest!
-Whispers -
hmmmmmm.... this is a very thought provoking piece... i cant say its exactly what i was looking for... but i thoroughly enjoyed it none, the less.. i am glad i got the chance to read this poem!
thank you for entering!
good luck!
-soundless screams -
Michael this is so beautiful, to ponder life with all it's scarred beauty, the ebbs and flow of the highs and lows. Excusite. I was truly captivated by this piece!
Bunny
Adding your comment:
1 - 15 of 15
