She’s an offence
looking to be taken,
a deprivation
eager to be felt.
He puts his foot in it
innocently again,
is surprised again
by the sudden
sobbing reproaches.
Petite, shapely,
curly blonde
girl-next-door,
she looks happy
and as pretty
as a Christmas angel.
She looks sweet,
uncomplicated.
All she wants, she says,
all she longs for,
is her father’s love.
She stabs him repeatedly
and twists the knife.
[Poem #73]
This began as a game some bloggers played in 2008, to write about people who'd made an impact, in the same number of words as one's age, every day for a year. I did them less often and went on longer, adding one word each birthday. I stopped in 2016 and incorporated them into my main poetry blog. In 2019 I resumed the project and gave it its own blog again, with a new name, where it may unfold at its own (slow, intermittent, lapsing and resuming) pace. I've labelled these verse portraits, but they're more like quick sketches: mere glimpses, impressions....
Tuesday, 21 April 2009
Wednesday, 15 April 2009
'Grandpa Daddy'
The distant Grandpa,
the one I never met,
who lived across the water
like the rest of my Daddy’s
fabled, extensive family,
all those unknown
aunts, uncles, cousins.
I was grown
before I was told
of his love of the glass,
which took him so far
from Grandma.
A popular, dancing man,
charmer and flirt.
I still have the delicate
poem he wrote for me
when I was born.
[Poem #72]
the one I never met,
who lived across the water
like the rest of my Daddy’s
fabled, extensive family,
all those unknown
aunts, uncles, cousins.
I was grown
before I was told
of his love of the glass,
which took him so far
from Grandma.
A popular, dancing man,
charmer and flirt.
I still have the delicate
poem he wrote for me
when I was born.
[Poem #72]
Charming Billy
always looks joyous,
fixes my back quickly,
admires my vibrant shirt,
tells me that if I Google his name
– I already know, I’ll find
a noted American poet –
asks after the progress
of my own writing,
adjusts my neck adeptly,
says, 'That’s great,
get outa here!'
(American himself)
with a big grin,
adjusts the payments
to suit our budget,
treats every patient
as a treasured pal,
charms me.
[Poem #71]
fixes my back quickly,
admires my vibrant shirt,
tells me that if I Google his name
– I already know, I’ll find
a noted American poet –
asks after the progress
of my own writing,
adjusts my neck adeptly,
says, 'That’s great,
get outa here!'
(American himself)
with a big grin,
adjusts the payments
to suit our budget,
treats every patient
as a treasured pal,
charms me.
[Poem #71]
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