Poetry & Writing · The Cork Board


I thought I’d put one of my early poems up here. I used to write constantly and perhaps now that I’ve started this blog site maybe I’ll get back into it. This poem first appeared in the new writing magazine “Buzzwords”. Eventually they published several of my poems and encouraged me greatly. I intended at the time to write a series of poems around fatherhood, hence the title, but never actually got there. Maybe now.

(for some reason I can’t seem to get the spacing to work correctly but here goes anyway)

Dad #1

On black December evenings

bleaker than a “no”

he’d let in the cold like an unwelcome friend,

his bike against the wall,

and stand on the mat

wet and dripping like a torture.

He’d stand then and wash

the raindust from his face

in a stringthread greyvest

hanging from his milkskin,

his shoulders limp as braces,

his forearms stained and brown.

Then full-fed in slumbers,

his dreams filed away by time,

dust would wrench his chest,

and grip his soul

till he spat into

the disapproving fire.

We saw nothing then of pain

nor selfish claims for chances

snatched from grasping fingers.

He only took our smiles

to fuel his pride, and waived

aside the trial that with its loss still lingers.

6 thoughts on “Dad#1

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s