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My Father's Funeral Twelve years old and three days from adulthood. the funeral parlor… lined in curious seekers sounding in repetitive phrase “So sorry†I remember sitting at the coffin musing over memories some real,others fantasy a mix, contrived with just enough of each to sustain a broken child to maintain an unstable sanity three days I tell you, three days spent gazing upon the man I had called my father never truly experiencing “Father†never really knowing this man now lying in the casket still silent , still stiff, still in mystery. ~GERALD PATRICK HEMSWORTH~ I remember watching him write it writing it as if he were an artist, a scholar flowery and fanciful huge hooping of letters with many loose tails a message in his signature more than scratching on a page; representative of his life. I see this now A double identity of sorts and me, I knew neither So,so many loose tales different directions unknown destinations and ,I remember thinking Where are you going to now Daddy? |
This Poem was Critiqued By: Ellen K Lewis On Date: 2007-02-07 23:01:03
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.89474
These deep thoughts are taken through a hollow barrel before they're dropped on the page, like a splotch, they stop right there. At first I am tripping along, hodge podge, and then you surprise me with an ending that is so touching and soft, like a child full of wonder.
I remember
watching him write it
writing it
as if he were an artist, a scholar
flowery and fanciful
huge hooping of letters
with many loose tails
a message in his signature
more than scratching on a page;
representative of his life.
*****you got me right there! that is awesome! In my mind I see a scene fitting for a Rockwell. This is very nicely done. I really like this.