Reality

Fathers, daughters, changes, relationships, responsibilities, death

REALITY

I heard a reluctant yawn,
Restless and uneasy,
Wondering, longing for his return,

But it’s just a memory,
A tiny bubble floating by,
disappearing like,
The evening sky or fall leaves
once flaring red and yellow,
 pushed down into the earth, over time,
But still there,
Just a lovely flash, a daydream sublime,
Of the past gone by.

But like a vacuum she’s sucked back in,
Back to insanity,  
there goes her gravity.
This cannot be her reality.

But his voice, echoes her name,
 calling her in a consistent rhythm
Like a sledgehammer on her brain,
Pounding, again, and again,
invading her mind,
Constantly reminding her,
 of the translucent
Finality,
his death will bring,

The catastrophic calamity,
Did she provide for his needs?
On the stage, she stands alone, unsure
Of anything at all,
Waiting for his pecking, his call
But no applause or praise will ever come her way.
The balls are falling down,
Around her wobbly knees,
What great sorrows, a Cantankerous Father does bring.

But she is compelled to repay him,
For the forgone, but gentle way,
He held her hand and played,
In her carefree childhood days.
 
And is hopeful gravity will come again,
The lure, the weightless invisible pull,  
only he can provide, that fills her soul,
lifts her up high by his humor, his wicked guise,
 
But then, when he goes to his final sleep,
Will the dark protective veil cover tears
Of weeping,
or a smile of contentment and peace.

But, surely he will demand,
A coffin alarm, placed beside his unfamiliar arms,
That held her as a  girl,
Will he pull the rope,
Will the bell ring on his headstone,
Will he awaken from his sleep,
Will he call my name
From his grave?

There goes gravity again,
She’s pulling her thoughts back in,

For when he does go,
She will know, she did everything,
A daughter should, to satisfy,
A discontented, overbearing and lonely man.
That she once adored,
And still loves, because she knows,
Fault and blame are useless things,
Something she learned from a wise Father,
 Long ago.

Reviews

[Bear]

Commenting on other peoples emotional work is like walking through a minefield, one misstep and you can find your foot in your mouth :) As I read through your poetry and see the progression of your work you truly have grown in your ability to express yourself. I haven't read it all yet but I will in time, I hope you don't mind if I make some notes and send them to you once I have read it all?

[Confuser]

Not at all....I suppose when I first began people would think it unkind; but I always said; If I wanted applause, I'd join the circus; and I don't believe in attending....T/Y.....

[AprilRN1210]

this one is quite affecting.. the voice honest.. real.. relate-able.. emotions vivid and powerful.. love the rhymes and flow.. there were a few places I stumbled.. but overall very nice...

few suggestions..(just my opinion).. for what it is worth.. think it might also help to tighten up the meter in a few spots.. reading aloud and counting helps me.. :)


"Back to a reality,
there goes her gravity.
This cannot be her reality."... repetition in other places works but here would probably change last line.. maybe something with "easy" in the ending..

"Waiting for his pecking, his call".. would change pecking to beckoning.. or even reword.. awaiting the beckoning of his call..

[Confuser]

Thank you; I will make the suggested changes, except, not so sure about beckoning - of course it's a great suggestion, but beckoning is so often used; guess i thought about the pecking, as so much more annoying; like I was a tree, and the call was one of my beloved woodpeckers. But, I would have to reword, like you said. You're the second person that said Meter and I'm sure you guys are right. Just never even thought about reading aloud/or counting. I really appreciate it. Thanks!

[willweb]

Wow, I love the reference to the bell on the headstone. Days of the plague. This is epic, such a journey of thought you have written. Love, fear, all shapes and shadows of it. I really enjoyed this today.

[MomzillaNC]

Stark and emotive imagery.

NOTES: When I read this aloud, many of the lines fell into a lovely rhythm, almost like a song. But, the meter was repeatedly lost by the longer lines.

[Confuser]

MomzillaNC, thank you so much. Never even thought about reading it aloud. Just did and you are spot on. I guess I'll have to figure it out. Wrote yesterday am - pure fiction - maybe I need to make a note of that. My father is just fine couldn't write otherwise.

[MomzillaNC]

Well, I'm glad you're not personally going through this. Hope my commentary is helpful.

[Confuser]

Yes; thank you. I've got so much to learn/don't know what a meter is/thought about a piano teacher; and music. I don't know if I'll ever get there. But will try. You are very helpful. Thank you.

[MomzillaNC]

Meter is related to music too. It's the the rhythm of a piece. In poetry, it's basically about counting syllables. You set meter pattern, which is a set number of syllables per line. For example, if you're writing quatrains, you might set a meter of 7/8/7/6; that means that each group of four lines has seven syllables for the first line, eight syllables for the second line, seven syllables for the third line, and six syllables for the sixth line; it also means that the pattern is repeated for every quatrain. A solid meter helps when you write rhyming poems too; a well defined meter and rhyme just compliment each other.

[R Smith]

Well that's a truly wonderful poem Dale, not sure how you could say its not as good as mine, its about a million times better! The theme is a fitting tribute to your Father and the rhyme's are amazing, its conclusion is a stunner and highly emotional, you are fulfilling your promise and becoming a great poet :)

[Confuser]

You can be so silly. A million times better, r you kidding. Just read a portion of your poem to my husband and said, he's a great writer and he didn't argue. By the way, my father is just fine. I just saw Louie, minidach, yawn, this am - was looking at the door waiting for my husband. His "Dad." I just started writing. I'll read it again. Maybe I'll like it better. Thanks so much. I hope I'll keep getting better.

[R Smith]

you can be so silly too, ok then just 500,000 times better haha :)

[Laura Lynn]

I like the second stanza especially..."A tiny bubble floating by,/disappearing like,/The evening sky or fall leaves/once flaring red and yellow,/ pushed down into the earth, over time,/But still there..." I can see that image and it reminds me of nature and the hush of it. I love nature and to see the sunset or sunshine on that bubble as it floats towards outer space then pops

[Confuser]

Thank you. I love nature too. We live in the woods; I suppose I always have, since I was 17. As a child, the story of Ten Toes, talks about my need to get through the fence to the woods. All the good stuff's there. Made me laugh; when I was reading your review and read push down, I thought of fossil fuels in the earth. It's early and the hush; a great word I will use. When I opened the door to let Pizza out; the "hush" took my breath away. You are so kind to read this. Needs work, wrote it yesterday morning. Anyway, so glad I found another nature lover.

[Peyton]

This poem is just brilliant. My own father moved away to China last year for work and it really got me thinking about what it would be like not to see him again. This captures that beautifully, thank you :)

[Confuser]

Thank you Peyton. Sorry your father moved, but am glad it made you think. My father's fine - just saw my dog yawn this am, waiting on my husband, wrote silly fiction. I'm glad you liked you. Call your Dad.

[Sanjh]

it's beautiful, the relation between a father and daughter is portrayed wonderfully. A deep and dark emotion...

well done...:)