Poem For a Mad Son

[Kenneth2816]

You sit cross legged like a yogi
in my papasan chair sifting
your beard between sips of tea,
tell me the moon was birthed
cut from the circle of earth,
the world is flat as a folding knife

When you were small, I built
a tree castle from repurposed
pallets, so high it raked the stars
like Babel's tower; pig Latin
coursing through your brain
even then , I passed if off
the way it never bothered you
how other kids rode bikes
played hide-and-seek, caught
lightning bugs in a jar.

Sometimes I break, curse God,
myself, the universe -and then
I'm secretly grateful to all
the pretty girls who will
never crush your heart.
The machinations of this world
won't hurt you much.

[BobBradshaw]

This is so filled with compassion. Gorgeous. A sure winner at the IBPC, though it deserves much better. We're privileged that you display your stunning wares before us....
You set the table beautifully...

You sit cross legged like a yogi
in my papasan chair.sroking
your beard between sips of tea,

and wow that wonderful line:
the world is flat as a folding knife

and oh the knowing, but heartbreaking lines:

the way it never bothered you
how other kids rode bikes
played hide-and-seek, threw rocks.

and then the heartrending close:

I'm secretly glad this world
will never hurt you much.

[Kenneth2816]

Wow. Thank you Bob.

[Michael (MV)]

Hi Kenneth,

I don't find the son to be mad;
however, I do understand that his mother nevertheless is concerned he might be.


A minor workshop share re the syntax of the finale:

I'm secretly grateful to all
the pretty girls who will
never crush your heart;
and the machinations of this world
that won't hurt you much.




There is no maternity leave



Michael (MV)

[Kenneth2816]

Thanks Michael

[Michael (MV)]

Consider leaving "poem" out of the title

To a Mad Son

or

For a Mad Son


Michael (MV)

[Kenneth2816]

Ok