Sunday, November 18, 2007

A Winter Morning

A farmhouse window far back from the highway
speaks to the darkness in a small, sure voice.
Against this stillness, only a kettle's whisper,
and against the starry cold, on small blue ring of flame.

Ted Kooser

Kids with Wives

Born only to cry and take.
Parents only too pleased to give,
children adopt skillful giving
to their tool-kit.
How much and when to use
is perfected by trial and error.

With estranged parents
donating and accepting
are mainstays of relationships
as parents seek to smother
with alternate currencies for company

When sexuality matures
and damages or displaces
the neatly organized tools in the box
their existence is devoted to
pleasing someone else before
themselves, or worse, me

The situations allowed to develop in
my sexual relationships
which you would erase
you have to witness, reenacted.
You dare not interfere.
For theirs' is not my world
and I fear rejection as
they feared mine.

The rope slackens
no need to drag them
they gather their own momentum.
After they pass me,
the leash tightens again
as I become the burden.

No more camping, games, rides,
cooking together, no more
rides home or girlfriends
Kids with wives aren't as much fun.

WRM (written before he became a grandparent!)

6 comments:

Anonymous said...

How melancholy.

Gill said...

How weird.

Anonymous said...

Did you know that if you are logged in, then it puts your name on your comment?

Anon

Anonymous said...

Kids have Lives.

Your children owe you nothing,
Cause a grey hair or two,
But it was you who chose to have them,
Not them who chose you.
Let loose the apron strings,
Don't take up the slack;
If you've done a good job of parenting,
You're children will come back,
With friends, wives and children,
Allowing you to share,
In their life's achievements,
They know you will be there;
To give support when needed,
Advice too willingly,
Not necessarily heeded,
But because you are a family.
Stand and stare in wonder,
At what great people they've become
And don't forget to mention,
"I'm proud you are my son".
j

Anonymous said...

Gill said,
yes, thanks, anonymous.
I will even put my name to my poem, when I post it.
g

Anonymous said...

j

Your poem brought a tear to my eye