One for my father


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For Kipling, ‘triumph and disaster’
Were one ‘impostor’ dressed as two

Thomas saw life in the death of a daisy
A ‘snow blind love’ in a ‘hellborn dew’

Plath knew ‘the knife not carve, but enter’
Lived ‘to the knucklebones’, left with a sigh

Wordsworth with his ‘half-blown rose’
Reaped ‘the harvest of a quiet eye’

Keats perceived the ‘lurking trouble’
in Endymion’s rosy bottom lip

Eliot took us to a place between
‘the roads that rise and the ones that dip’

Browning’s ‘nameless’ mysteries drop
‘as snow upon a blind man’s face’

Blake bade us ‘kiss the joy as it flies’
Brought God to meet the human race

Brooke’s ‘young heavens, forgetful after rain;
And evening hush, broken by homing wings’

Spender’s ancestral memory is
‘blood’ that’s ‘drawn from ageless springs’

Byron’s Prometheus proclaims a life
to which our ‘Spirit may oppose’

But in the ‘redness of wine’ there softly lies
Yeats’s ‘Incorruptible Rose’

As you, my friend, have shown to me
The quiet struggle to stand tall

Can bring to life beyond the strife
The poet that stutters in us all.

About subincontinentia

writer and eternal optimist
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2 Responses to One for my father

  1. Jamyang says:

    i will take the last two stanzas home and leave the rest for an English lit. major

  2. Kevin says:

    Your Dad must have been very proud of you and your writing Becky.And to have had you write this for him, I just can’t Imagine!

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