The father’s love
By Mark Heathcote
Sat, 11 Feb 2012
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4 comments
“Of cause I’ll love, you
With the beating of a hand,
But—with this love”.
Be sure to understand.
“Love is not a bye word,
Written in the moving; sand.
Son; I only clips the mockingbird”.
Nomad headed to the hinterland.
Son; life is not a fairytale.
In a distant far off—fairyland.
Life’s here and now. So, bewail...
The father’s love we all misunderstand.
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Comments
i admire the construction
i admire the construction and depth of this poem yet feel that more is demanded re the use of direct speech. Where you use speech marks seems a little off. just a thought!
maisie 
Guess what? I'm still alive!
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Mark I really like this a
Mark I really like this a lot. It harks to a constant in a world lacking in constants.
Having said that there is a tangible undercurrent (I know that is a contradiction). And it somehow unnerves me - it makes me concerned that I am being drawn in to accept an absolute truth and then, when I am committed, the rug will be pulled away and I will be undone along with all the others like me.
A really great poem and I don't make that comment often. Thanks for sharing.
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Sure there is some tidying
Sure there is some tidying and housework needed, but that is incidental. You provided a superb poem and I for one am grateful.
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