Fathers aren’t like anybody else,
aren’t like mothers, with their
tender smiles, who are
happy just to hear you breathe
eager to see you take your first step,
right or wrong.
Fathers aren’t like anybody else, they’re
anxious, impatient, always
ready to correct. They
expect to see you do
whatever you’ve done, done better.
Excellence is what they leave you, an almost unattainable excellence in
language, logic,
love.
Maggie Creshkoff
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I read this last night at Church Hill for the poetry reading...and though it's not a new poem, I would like to end the month with it.
ReplyDeleteand thanks so much, May and Peter, for playing.
xomaggie
She had more money than she needed
ReplyDeleteI had less money than I desired
She never missed her excess
which I removed from her pocket
which I spent—
neither of us the wiser.
Maggie -- thank you for posting Father Farewell, it's a wonderful poem.
ReplyDeleteMay
What Now?
ReplyDeleteIt's the thirtieth of the month,
the year is one third gone.
What should I do
with the rest of 2010?
And my thirty
or so drafts of poems?
May Kuroiwa
Enjoy the View!
ReplyDeleteThe Valley lush
Washed in a golden glow
And beyond are some higher peaks
Even though covered with cloud.