on hearing the news of my father's death Options

[Daniel Barlow]

I watched your birth and heard your primal cry
of helplessness. I knew a father's joy,
his awkward pride. At four, you are a boy
whose small steps overshadow every high
I've championed in forty years. And yet,
I miss the way your tiny fingers fumbled
for shiny things, the way your features crumbled
when tired, your tangled words. And if I let
myself, I think of death, of who'll surround
you when I'm gone, who'll pull you close and clasp
your head, if one day you'll grow old alone.
I wonder, as I watch you run around,
who'll cherish life that moves beyond their grasp,
who'll wait and think to claim you as his own.

[JLY]

Daniel,
I immediately got caught up in the emotions that this poem renders. As a father there is so much to cling to and identify with. You have expressed all of the observations fathers and their children share.

There is so much truth and honesty in your lines, particularly the following ones:

At four, you are a boy
whose small steps overshadow every high
I've championed in forty years. And yet,

Watching the growth and development of a child is one of the wonders of life.

Your choice of the word "awkward" in his awkward pride. is dead on when speaking from a male perspective; for a woman, the pride would joyous and outwardly displayed.

As far as the technical aspects of your poem, I don't have any suggestions. I enjoyed the read and it spiked my emotions very early this morning.

Thanks for sharing.

JLY

[Sekhmet]

Daniel - Hearing of your father's death must have been hard to bare. It forces a man to accept that the mantle of true fatherhood has settled more heavily upon his shoulders. How natural that your thoughts should go out to your own son - now that you have become the senior father figure in your family. The 'old man' had always been there, for a word of advice, a pat on the back for a job well done, or the silent, mutual contemplation of the strange ways of women. Now, your boy looks to you for these same small comforts.
Your tender poem contains all our fears for our children's futures - and regret for a lost past.
These are your own personal thoughts, and should really remain unchanged.
But if you would like a small question ... The last part confused me slightly. I am not certain if you are wondering who might look after your son - should you die. I can't quite feel what you are thinking there.
I am being vague - but I am left with an unresolved doubt about your intention.

'I wonder, as I watch you run around,
who'll cherish life that moves beyond their grasp,
who'll wait and think to claim you as his own.'

I am so sorry for your loss,
Leo

[Guest_ohsteve_*]

Daniel, I read with you in your poem, all the poignantcy that life has to offer, all the drama, wonder, and caring that any father can have during any stage of his life. Although I have no sons, I have a grandson and another soon to be born. I wonder if thier lives will touch on any of the same aspects of my own. This is excellently done. I can see no nits through my first read.
Steve

[Daniel Barlow]

Thanks JLY,

it's really nice to know you could identify with this and I thank you for sharing your specific thoughts. It made me feel as if the effort was a success.

Thanks Leo, this is an older poem that I had a few light-bulb moments with, so fortunately I can say that my Father didn't die recently and that I've had plenty of time to process his passing.
I very much enjoyed reading the thoughts you shared and welcome the question offered.

Perhaps it is a failing on my part to adequately steer the poem toward the questions I was hoping to leave readers with.
The lines you mention reflect generational questions: does my grandfather wait for my father, will my father wait for me, will I wait for my son, does god claim us all as his own, or is there simply nothing. These are the types of questions I was hoping to raise in readers minds.

Any suggestions?

Thanks Steve,

I appreciate your enthusiasm for the words and the sharing of your own perspectives. Thanks so much for your time.

Daniel

[Psyche]

Hi Daniel,

I've read your poem several times, and also your call for suggestions that would make the reader think more in transcendental terms, of whether there's a Being who'll claim these children when they grow old "and move beyond our grasp" (we'll be dead, and they'll die, and so forth).

I believe the last two lines should hold the key to these profound doubts. Is there a loving Being or nothing at all? For one, in L13 the word 'their' is confusing. You've used 'you' all along, and the switch is misleading.

"Who'll cherish life that moves beyond our grasp"

sounds to me a tad better if you want to question afterlife.

L14 is also a bit weak in that respect. It's not weak if you're talking mundane issues, in fact it's lovely, but it doesn't transcend. Personally, to me it seems to relate to worries about the child growing old and ending up in a nursing-home or abandoned in some way or another (which I guess we all fear...).

Something like:

Who'll cherish life that moves beyond our grasp,
who's love endures beyond our graven stone?

Well, you know the routine, TorT. I just feel that your last lines don't reveal the philosophical questions you want the reader to ask themselves.

Cheers, Syl***

[Eisa]

Hi Daniel

Oh such a poignant piece! I think we all wonder how our children will cope alone when we have gone and I can feel every thought & emotion you have written here.

I'm no punctuation expert, but wonder if a semi-colon might be better in the last line here
I miss the way your tiny fingers fumbled
for shiny things, the way your features crumbled
when tired; your tangled words.

I think I agree with Syl about the last line of all and perhaps you could rewrite a stronger line to have more impact at the end.

who'll cherish life that moves beyond their grasp,
who'll wait and think to claim you as his own.

Hope to see you again soon
Snow

[Arnfinn]

Hi, Daniel,


I watched your birth and heard your primal cry
of helplessness. I knew a father's joy,
his awkward pride. At four, you are a boy
whose small steps overshadow every high
I've championed in forty years. And yet,
I miss the way your tiny fingers fumbled
for shiny things, the way your features crumbled
when tired, your tangled words. And if I let
myself, I think of death, of who'll surround
you when I'm gone, who'll pull you close and clasp
your head, if one day you'll grow old alone.
I wonder, as I watch you run around,
who'll cherish life that moves beyond their grasp,
who'll wait and think to claim you as his own.


Your poem abounds with sentimentality and melancholy.

I see the theme of what a lot of parents wonder, these days.

When I'm gone: what's sort of life will my child/children be experiencing: the unknown.

Enjoyed the read.


John

[Daniel Barlow]

Hey guys, Sorry to leave these poems lagging and gathering comments that go unanswered. I've been sick, stressed out and work is busier than you could believe given that it's a recession.

I thank you all for your time and kind words and suggestion but I'm going to have to disappear for awhile. Things are a bit much right now.

Apologies,

Daniel

[AMETHYST]

Hey Daniel,

How are the kids? How are you? I am so glad to see you posting and I apologize for my absence. I've been completely under the weather. I remember this and remember how I fell in love with it. I also remembering being extremely jealous of your ability to grab your reader by the heart and draw them into the poem with such passion and unusual crafting skills.

The subject is full of depth and profound thoughts. I love how you blend the son/father you were/had and are to be and how your reflections of losing your own father, leave you aching for your own -

The only thing that felt weak to my ear was the repetition of 'who'll' I think a repeat of 'who'll' works to intensify the emptiness of 'no one' being there - but I felt 4 right on top of the other doesn't bring that to full fruitation.

The opening lines (especially 'helplessness" immediately emphasizes the fragile state of a newborn and the fears of a parent to know so much lies ahead for them to make them stronger and hopefully more wiser) Which I felt was intensified by the continuation of the line "I knew a father's joy" ... These few words paint such a striking and vital picture, both visually and emotionally. As well as the perfection in 'his awkward pride." these 3 words describe in fullness the depth of that awe struck embarrassment of feeling both over joyed and meak at the sight of such magnificience. Excellent word choices!

who'll cherish life that moves beyond their grasp,
who'll wait and think to claim you as his own.

The only 'who'll' I would suggest substituting might be in the final line, perhaps

who'll cherish life that moves beyond their grasp,
then wait such time to claim you as his own (such time or the time, or a time)

Of course it is a simple and miscellaneous offering. I hope something I left is helpful, otherwise this poem is all powerful.

Big Hugs and Much Love to you!!! Liz