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not a barfly
Contributed by
Jan_Oskar_Hansen
on
Thursday, 12th December 2002 @ 02:30:00 PM in AEST
Topic:
oops
|
Not a Barfly
My father was a scientist spent nights
in the basement mixing yeast, sugar
and dried fruit; sometimes arguing
with shadows and singing rude songs.
Submerged in mornings looking hazy
eyed and tired, put his trousers under
the mattress, to keep the press and
collapsed on top of the bed. Mother,
tired of his endless experiments, told
him to go somewhere else preferable
to a much warmer place. Last time I
saw him was on the bus going into
town I was eighteen then and knew
a bit more, mortified me by crying,
calling me his son. Didnt know that
he had died before mother told me
An unfulfilled man she said and
to my surprise was moved to tears.
Copyright ©
Jan_Oskar_Hansen
... [
2002-12-12 14:30:00]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: not a barfly
(User Rating: 1 )
by Nessiecat on
Thursday, 12th December 2002 @ 03:43:40 PM AEST
(User
Info | Send
a Message)
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Wow, I don't know what to say about this except that it's very powerful indeed. Your poem conjours up strong images and emotions.
You have a real tallent.
Love and light
Nessiecat =^..^= |
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