Family Poems (502)

Patiently they sit there
Old and frail most of them
life weary.
Seated on plastic chairs
under printed posters
warning of aids and
the danger of smoking.
Then a child´s sobbing
shatters the silence
her fear or pain a reminder
that life goes on,
a new beginning meeting
with approaching endings
in a doctor´s waiting room.

i was once a sad, sad man
with no where to go without a plan.
a man like me was full of dispair
i always thought to myself life isnt fair.
i woke one day to realize its untrue
why spend your days feeling blue.
you see i raise my daughter all by myself
shes all i live for, why have i felt.
so bad for myself is not a way of life,
a better life is worth the strife.
shes the one i live for,
why would i need more.
i feel better these days you should see,
life is about her and not about me.

Lonely, I married you without thinking about
anything except having my own family...
Your motherless boys captivated my need to
be needed, so I said yes...
Months after the ceremony I learned of your
passion for the herb...I began to understand
why your boys were wild and knew so much
at their age of tenderness...

It was not good that they knew more than me,
especially when I was trying to be their mother...
And you, did you get the giggles toking with friends,
thinking about your wife and boys home, alone,
dying of their thirst? ...
Some of your friends made a play for me, your own
brother did once when you were fishing for Walleye
on Cordova Lake, seasoning your catch with
expensive herbs, cut first...
Years later, when I tired of you and your habit,
you married my twin, except unlike me, she shared
shared your passion until the day you fell dead
because the rivers, polluted, ever shrinking,
quenched not your burning thirst! ...

Cry now, all of you cry a river of tears! ...
Cry for the man, even though he made his choice! ...
Cry long, cry hard friends and family! ...
Cry for the man, but for his boys, cry first! ...

I watched a game show called red or black
fasinated to see the game was i
no real skill was involved
just pick a colour red or black

the loser was to go home the winner carries on with the show
red or black the contest continue to choice
till they win to the studios
eight contestants now are left
from a 1000 losers, where not picked

in the studio they are now still they had to pick red or black
now they feel sick
near the million they are
till they are down to the last two, they have to be

only one winner this game show can have
for the chance to win a million quid
to stop that ball on to the color of choice they must pick
red or balck they have to pick

for one million pounds worth of joy if they got it wrong
on on the bus they will go home less a million quid
now they will feel sick loser

my son comes by and looks over my shoulder
at his picture on my PC's wallpaper
he analyses it carefully seeing
himself as so young, so innocent
he can't believe he was ever that
young and innocent
(he's twenty now)

life spans before him like the view
from a tollbooth at a suspension bridge
his motor revving a little
he looks at the collector in the booth
then at the long span
over the river of life
ready to ride, he presses the gas,
confidently grips the wheel
and pulls away, the music in his ears

© Goode Guy 2011-08-22

Carved utilitarian shape, varnished with age,
worn, brown wooden spool once a tree, living,
now reduced to only inches - three.
Red fibers wrapped tightly ‘round,
and, in the wrapping to keep together,
both lights and shadows appear,
as fiber twists against fiber to give strength
yielding a texture of roughness
that belies the silky threads.
As they attempt to unravel themselves,
unbound, the thick fibers soften and flow
off the spool in a pool of crimson,
with more than a trace of blue.

Amy picks up the ancient spool of thread
given to her by her mother.
It had once been her grandmother’s, too -
a lifeline connecting them all,
stitching past to present to future.
With mother and grandmother gone,
it’s all she has to do the job of mending
the shirt her husband wants to wear.
Deftly, she pulls the fiber through
the needle’s eye and begins to stitch.
She notices that, unlike her marriage,
the color is a perfect match
and she sews to mend her tattered life.

Daddy, you are a figure for your chilldren
when i saw you i was up sad
i can not see you as a father
surely daddy, you're not ready for a father

mom, you teach us love
when you were spesking for us
its so hard to find love on your words
So tell me mom, how can i love them?

Daddy, mom...
I love you more than everything..
A love that you show me
will make it better
daddy, pray for us

a famous warrior wanted to make a fun of master oshiba,
he asked:
honourable master,give me a good reason to spare your life !
master oshiba replied :
have you the power to keep your mind still,just a second ?
the warrior took his sword and killed himself.

Warning! warning! black hole approaching
A black hole as everyone knows
Sucks in matter as it approaches
Matters not if it's steak or chops
Food of any description it swallows
Warning! warning! black hole approaching
My teenage son is home

two guys met way back and comprise
a duet of two, fondly able to show
true affection for other as a twin

these guys as you might surmise
are lifetime friends though
Younger's thick and Elder's thin

since Younger's days of undersize
Elder's maintained the status quo
that they weren't related kin

they sat for years as happy guys
on park bench, no desire to know
if their covering was familial skin

Younger seemed to scrutinize
his Elder from head to toe
to glimpse a deeper truth within

Elder's mind then thought it wise
for Younger's future peace, you know
to search old truth, their times begin

test the DNA facts that underlies
a connection beyond any John Doe
himself and Younger related within

result comes back the test supplies
that they're difference can forgo
no familial connection there had been

biologically different too often belies
the bonds that they themselves bestow
to each other as family though not kin

so they found themselves in the guise
of family unrelated, still family apropos
as blood or not, their faces all agrin

© Goode Guy 2011-07-26