happy deathday dear old dad
happy deathday to you
it's been a number of broken years
since the dark ran through you
the naked birch is a bony white
a raven caws the morning
a storm front gathers against the west
towers of nimbus scorning
the wind is cold as it's ever been
an oak branch scrapes the rooftop
windows whine the mournful sound
of memories haunting after
the life you left behind is choked
by an ever present worry
sprouted from the seeds you sowed
of sorrow dread and fury
the house you left behind is bare
groaning each november
pains that though the world forget
these old white walls remember
this is the day you passed away
grey roots running through you
happy deathday father dear
happy deathday to you
In a list
Thoughts, Feelings, Interpretations, Experience:
Comments
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yes i know you encourage constructive comments but just wana let you know that i read this. interesting fact though
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You didn't like?
I know you prefer romantic. 
Thanks for having a peak though!
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Your words are haunting. They make me know how fortunate and blessed I was to have been raised by a stern but very loving father. I know that that is not the case in all families. I know that for some to rid themselves of a harsh relationship with a parent is sometimes even worse than being there with that person. The residue of hurt is quite evident in these words. No need to read between the lines here. Very vivid! Sad mixed with the writer's release.
Much Love & Respect ♥
Reneer
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It's been a while since I've heard from you Renee. And I have to say It's an honor. Always an honor. I'm happy to learn you had a good relationship with your father. This can create its own touching poetry, but with a more positive lilt. Something for people like myself to experience vicariously. It works both ways. Poets like me can help those who didn't experience such tragedies understand some of the emotion behind them, and poets like you can help people like me understand that it's really not all blood and tears, that honest healing relationships can exist and be sought after within the family.
Thanks for being the unique being that you are, and for finding the time to visit my hapless posts on occasion.
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Well Erin, You sure do know how to put things into words People dont often realize how suicide affects the "surviors" I think this stanza about sums things up very nicely
"the life you left behind is choked
by an ever present worry
sprouted from the seeds you sowed
of sorrow dread and fury"
The people left behind are the ones who suffer, most have even had their own thoughts of suicide because of it. You have managed to look at all the different feelings, anger, resentment, hurt, worry and wrap them up in your poem. As usual you have done an excellent job writing about a very difficult subject..
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I was really surprised by how well received this poem was. I'm glad you were able to enjoy this poem, despite what it touches on. Thanks Suzy.
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Morbid, that is what I thought when I started reading this. It is well written. I like how you speak of the ripple effect, the things that are still being dealt with so long after his death.
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I'd say that every action by every human from the dawn of sentience has had a ripple effect down to the least sensate sentient living today. To contemplate the ripple effects, in any way, of any who touch our lives I think is a very Chan meditation, and worth our time.
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2nd opinion
Did I miss something? After re-reading, I wonder if perhaps, a 'Sardonic sense of "Glad that you're there & I'm not" came to mind...after all, not all family relationships are healthy & happy. -
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Oh the sardony is most definitely there. You're not seeing things. It's subtle, but it's there. This is a poem of ambivalence, intended to be read and received with a degree of ambivalence.
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An interesting way of commemorating a memory.
It's a human failing to keep touching wounds to see if they still hurt. The gentle probing in this piece reveals some of the pain but seems to indicate it is well under control..
An enjoyable and thought provoking read as usual.
Jim -
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I'd say it is. If we lose ourselves to the pain, we go mad. If we desensitize ourselves to the pain, we lose our humanity. Balance.
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wow / love it
What a turn around.
A whole NEW perspective.
Deletes the sadness & mournful kells.
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The idea came to me as I read Joyce's Ulysses--in conjunction with Ulysses Annotated--which I've been reading for forever it seems. Mr. Bloom, upon noting an ornament set on a Dublin Statue of one O'Brien, thought to himself, "It must be his deathday. Many happy returns." This somehow put a variant of the "Happy Birthday" song in my head, but with "Happy Deathday" instead. Next thing you know I'm jotting down notes and expanding them into quatrains.
It's interesting the effect a turn on such a phrase can have.
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Hmm.. I like this tribute. Wondering, though, about the missing rhyme in stanza 3... makes it stand out.
Cheers Erin!
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Laziness. Couldn't find a convincing rhyme for "rooftops", so I settled for primary consonance/secondary alliterating with "f/t". Close enoughy I figuredy.
Happy Tday heinz.
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excellent
beautifully written report of a painful story. great imaging.
very smart style.
"quatrains" so difficult
but you make it flow
you must be incredibly smart
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Thanks for reading! And for enjoying the effort made here. Sometimes there can be a certain beauty in pain. Long as we don't make a habit of it.
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