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Fathers Day twenty ten

07 Sep
Fathers Day twenty ten

Dawn.

Spring breezed in steely silver and damp on Fathers Day.
No apostrophe required.
Youngest ones walk early with their Dads from beach
to grass to sand repellent tap and through the pool.
Pool gate challenge.
One hand in each hand.  A gift their Dad will take
out and inspect every day if he knows now its future value.
Because memory fades.


Dusk

Watching them eat; hearing them bicker; loving them
Reviewing the days.
I remember them running on the beach with poodles.
and rinsing their feet at the outdoor shower at Dada’s.
No poetry then.
and the pine forest and the barbecued sausages and the
marshmallows toasted on sticks and the black lab.
Heart and head full of boys and dogs;
and that lass over there.

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4 Comments

Posted by on 7 September, 2010 in Photographs, POEMS

 

4 responses to “Fathers Day twenty ten

  1. Trudie Murrell

    7 September, 2010 at 1:43 am

    I’m pretty sure you’ve always had the poetry John – it’s just that you’re writing it down now.

     
    • JohnW

      7 September, 2010 at 2:10 am

      As I said to Angel Kosch and Binna, it’s not fair writing your poetry while the kids are being born.

       
  2. JohnW

    8 September, 2010 at 7:31 pm

    This poem is better if I take out the three middle stanzas, and just leave the first and last, but it also serves the purpose of a memory for me of a great day.

     
  3. Trudie Murrell

    9 September, 2010 at 11:00 pm

    Nice knife job. I like it. You’re exactly right, T

     

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