Pup's pup

By london_calling79

Mon, 11 May 2015

2554 reads

7 comments

Your lake-stone rippled eyes implore the world of me,

would wash away that blood red

self destruct circle that almost cost me all.

Your fine motor finger scratches

pull me back from the edges

of your elemental bawl.

But nothing in this world scares me as much as letting you explore it,

poised precariously on that razor tightrope

swaying miles above reason.

The tugs on my heart strings grow the further you wander,

a sumptious sting I know will grow with you

my face-planting little soldier.

But when it goes south. When it gets bad.

When you can't understand

that we don't know what to do

and your throat is raw from fumbling at the vowels

- we just hold you -

keep you warm in our safe, amniotic womb.

I promise you nothing my son. I wish you nothing.

I let each day take its lake-stone rippled course;

free from regrets and oaths and enjoy the time

I don't feel I deserve

but will work to make you understand

that you do.

Comments

Beautifully written. So

Permalink Submitted by love_writing on Mon, 2015-05-11 22:30

Beautifully written. So emotive and expressive - we just hold you- that just makes me want to grab my son and give him a big hug!

Those last three lines in particular got me :)

love_writing

Thanks LW! No matter how much

Permalink Submitted by london_calling79 on Mon, 2015-05-11 22:32

Thanks LW! No matter how much they can infuriate the love just radiates!

I can't comment on which is

Permalink Submitted by Rhiannonw on Tue, 2015-05-12 12:03

I can't comment on which is clearer, but I understood this better after reading the first (got a bit distracted as the picture above is on a different poem again, not version 1 of this!), but I am always slow getting clarity in my mind over this kind of writing. Some bits I'm still not quite clear about, (what is face-planting referring to?) but the concept of love watching and trying to allow independece is vividly portrayed, and I especially liked, 'your throat is raw from fumbling at the vowels' Rhiannon

Thanks Rhiannon! The face

Permalink Submitted by london_calling79 on Tue, 2015-05-12 12:07

Thanks Rhiannon! The face-planting thing was supposed to be a bit of bathos. It's a modern term for falling flat on your face, as my son often did as he learned to walk. Still needs a bit of editing I think and I will take your comments regarding clarity into mind when I do. Thank you for your feedback!

Oh, thanks! Now that is just

Permalink Submitted by Rhiannonw on Tue, 2015-05-12 12:25

Oh, thanks! Now that is just where I get slow - I haven't heard the term face-planting like that, but it's such a sensible phrase in that context, - once someone explains, I can't think why I hadn't thought of it. Reminds me of a rather severe, unpopular English teacher I had when quite young, but how she could make poems clear in an amazing way! Rhiannon

It's a beautiful piece.

Permalink Submitted by airyfairy on Tue, 2015-05-12 22:14

It's a beautiful piece. Agree that the last three lines go straight to the heart. Also the bit about the tugs on heart strings. My son's still face-planting at the age of 27. Usually in the early hours of the morning.

Cheers airyfairy. I was

Permalink Submitted by london_calling79 on Wed, 2015-05-13 22:28

Cheers airyfairy. I was trying to build things up throughout the poem but still feel the start is too slow. I hope my boys learn to face-plant softly when they grow up!