i remember that morning
for being a cold one
the dew was still stuck
to the grass out front
and i was surprised
to find the front
door wide open
with only the barred
glass behind it to
shield you from
the neighborhood’s
prying eyes and damp fall
and there you were
slumped on the couch
like so many mornings past
but you were
cold to the touch
a mannequin under rigor
eyes closed, eyes closed
unopened for my screams
to wake up, wake up, wake up
the house echoed
of mostly you and
documentaries of wars
fought long ago that
kept you company in the wee hours
because i wasn’t there to hang out
but i wish i was
how i hate my hindsight
the difference i couldn’t
have made even if i’d been there
and wherever you are now
i hope you can’t see the
crying little man buried down
that i can’t let out
Author notes
Dad.
1962-2008.
In a list
Comments
1 - 20 of 20
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Very toching.
thank you.although it is sad but it gives me a nice feeling.I was attracted to this poem because it is about Dad.I have also a poem like this _To my silent Dad_
we are also in the same age.23.nice.
http://allpoetry.com/bahar
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Do not listen to mr. stone.
His pic match the consistency of his being.
This piece was not written by a drone.
Its a product of hurt and bleeding.
This is literature in its truest form.
Just remember, emotion make even dull words a poem.
Thanks for the write.
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wonderful
Well, I guess you don't need me to tell you how awesome this is. But, I'll say it anyway. From the gut and yet well written. -
I'm Sorry, For It's Ben 5 Years Scence My Mom Died And Its Hard
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Many people have read this, a few have criticized and offered their opinions. Some were ignorant, some not so much...
I can offer nothing but praise for this poem, although it wasn't a piece that I particularly enjoyed. I have no place to criticize since, well, you are a better writer than I am anyway.
I am, however, very sorry for what happened to your father. My dad and I are very close (in the father/son sense of course) and, quite frankly, I really don't know what I would do if he died.
Although this might not be a piece that I enjoyed very much, I can say with confidence that you did a great job.
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wonderfully written
dont worry about what others think about your work the only opinion that truly matters here is your own . they critisize because they are to scared to show any fellings at all so dont it is good you write to get things off your chest . but was a lovely sad write and i think you should be proud of it
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wow great write
it really painted a great picture, two thumbs up
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Not really your best, but hey... this is the dumbest person in the world speaking lol the words are kind of off I think, but obviously this is not a revising poem : )
Good job either way.
Shawn
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Boring words and average writing that could be easily expanded and refined by throwing in some orginality. Experiment with words and try new things. At the moment all I see is the typical writer.
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Care to share some of your no-doubt "original" thoughts?
Not that I was looking to improve this at all, considering it's a much more personal write than most of mine are, but still, I'm curious now. -
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I said nothing about thoughts if you actually look to read. Im referring to your writing conventions and overall vocabulary which are both horribly dull. And if it is such a personal write then it doesnt seem logical to go and post for the public eye.
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lovely. you captured such distressed moments so deliberately, calmly. it really lets you look into it all. well done.
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That's so sad. But I love the rhythm you have, and the poem is excellent.
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We can't be everywhere at once, my friend. We go when we go. It's the love we gave all along that matters, not just the last moments. I'm sure you know who loves you even when they're not around, and I'm sure he did, too.
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"and there you were
slumped on the couch
like so many mornings past
but you were
cold to the touch
a mannequin under rigor
eyes closed, eyes closed
unopened for my screams
to wake up, wake up, wake up"
This reminds me of several years ago, four or five, I think, when I went to a funeral for my friend's father. She told me later, after the viewing, that she wanted to grab him buy the shoulders and shake him and tell him to wake up. This is so painful... and I'm officially crying now. The first poem started it, now, it's uncontrollable. Again, I'm very sorry for your loss, even though you probably don't want pity. Thank you, though, for sharing this with me. It's such an intimate piece, I don't know if I would be able to post something this raw, about a subject this sensitive, and for that, I give you a lot of credit.
♣ Tegan
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Shit. I'm so sorry to hear this.
Just keep keep writing, and try and keep busy. And try and remember all the amazing times you had. (Sorry about all the clichés)
Take care. Megan -
I'm so sorry to hear about your father; I, myself, recently lost a best friend who was like a sister to me, so I completely understand what you must be going through right now. Even though I don't know you well, I can tell you that you and your dad were very lucky to have had the relationship that you did. Wherever he is, I'm sure that he's so very proud of you.
Those last two stanzas hit like a ton of bricks.It can be so hard to lose someone you love, and even harder to accept when reality hits; but in times like these, you must be strong enough to embrace your vulnerability, and take the time to mourn your dad's passing. He obviously meant a great deal to you, so it's okay to grieve and be emotional. You will move forward in due time.
Once again, I'm sorry to hear the news. I will keep you and your family in my thoughts, now and always.
Best wishes,
Laura
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This is beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous. Again, I'm telling you, I'm sure he *is* proud that you *are* his son. I know how proud I am to have you in my life and I look to you like a sister to a brother. If I, who am only me, and we're seperated by miles and not related by blood, can see the beautiful man you are, I know he, who is your blood, can see all the beautiful attributes that make you you. I love you. This is gorgeous.
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Thank you.
I don't feel great or beautiful or anything; I feel more hollow than anything else. I don't know if it's because of his death, or if I was already like that and his passing just magnified it. I hope it's only the former.
You, though, are helping me dig back out. Thank you. I love you.
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oh, jason...
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