morning, back to bed (a poem)
if the coffee tastes
as bad as i feel
maybe it is more rest
or better dreams
that i need
today
11-19-21
love and what was missing
[from a second wave – poetry]
i found that note again
the one where i proposed loving
rather than running
the one where i brought
hopefulness and ideas and romance
where was your note
back then, or ever, really
where was your inspiration
as things trended hard
where did you go
i’m thinking this a long time later
as a new winter arrives
and i’m still seeking
someone i love even half as much
but of course that will never do
i had it all
and even as i strived
in the final minutes
to keep our family together
you had already left the building
i just didn’t know yet
but finding this note
reminds me
of how you missed so much
of the love i was offering
the ideas, inspirations
dreams and actions and hopes
i’m not sure
how you didn’t have any to share
or if i was expected to provide
all of the connective tissue
because when the light flickered
you were gone
even as i failed
to identify what was missing
11-15-14
a dream undone
[from a second wave – poetry]
i see the image of stairs leading upward and away
and i think of leaving you, or of what was left long ago
it’s an exit or a return, a dream undone
of travel, and escape, decay and breakdown
any repairable years have been lost, all is lost
and yet, there is the arriving or departing
the traveling and hope that is still captured
in ascending motion towards another future
what’s past is gone and overgrown
there are devils and snakes there
in that house we built and dreamed up together
it’s not as if i’d like to return
not to the house of my father either
no
it’s a pause
almost a prayer of …
loss
thanksgiving
escape
delayed gratification
or no gratification at all
a reflection of moments unlived
and children unfathered mid-childhood
the gate remains closed to me
and the armies of decay have set in
where we once ate delirious breakfasts
hopeful lunches and spirited dinners
everything was ahead and above us
like the stairway to our adult lives
each step a new milestone along our emergence
into moms and dads
with arms already beginning to show their weariness
as we carried each other
and these marvelous bouncing cherubs
i’m not sure when the weeds began to take hold
but i am sure you saw them first
and wished that I would save the stairs
without having to be told there were issues
and if i didn’t know and you didn’t say
the roots took hold and began to break the foundation
whisper quiet and relentless
i am no longer writing you love poems
they are about other women, other moments
hopes, reflections, and dreams
but you stopped hearing my voice
as you were overwhelmed by the fear or antipathy
and the poem, pray, song, hand across your back
no longer brought a blush to your cheeks
and as the green tendrils continued their march
you could hear nothing but the crumbling stone
as you hovered and worried over the boy
and championed and cuddled with the girl
and left me alone night after night
it was no happy palace we were defending
there were no defenders and no calvary to call
only us
and the house that leaked
and the babies that cried
and the emptiness
of the first ice storm
we should’ve bundled together
but we bungled apart
and the weeds were covered and forgotten
by one of us
and held as evidence by the other
the cold halls
and icy rooms
under dank blankets
in separate rooms
with the dangerous night
and clicking of sleet
and ticking of a clock
that was louder than any hearts
left inside
8-23-14
image: found via g+, no attribution, creative commons usage
dark woundings of my own
[from a second wave – poetry]
the precision in a glass of wine
loosening the tongue just enough
to truthfully expose the inner heart
the pumping seething heart
rich red with healthy passion
or black blue with choked off pain
i cannot stand in your way
nor cushion your deep slide this time
my target is moving now
released by your trigger finger
and slippery anger-joke-anger
mad, just kidding, is still mad
and opening the door
date-night door, as well
with “i’m mad” is a sure sign
as sure as the slight slur
almost imperceptible, almost passable
but the message uncoiled and venomous
was unfiltered this time, by feints and jests
and the bile poured on the floor between us
what could’ve caused the flood
releasing pent-up frustrations and …
what
a deathly release from being loved
a striking to keep from feeling
a fear greater than being loved
a fear of loving and losing again
i can’t survive this poison
i’ve seen too clearly the trajectory of loss
disappointment and un. met. expectations.
i survived this song long ago
so long, i no longer want to do the dance
around the venomous tongue
the wounded and striking viper
i won’t go back to charming
starring with glassy eyes, praying
playing the flute
hoping for a long and happy life
i failed my snake charming class
and burned the books
branded with my F
but released from that prison
of dangerous shadows and unknown traps
i am released and recovering
from dark woundings of my own
i won’t take on more
hurt
no matter
what the
love
provided
now
or
then
8-1-2014
image: models dive 25 meters, bejamin von wong, creative commons usage
please stay gone
[from a second wave – poetry]
i can’t take it back
you’ve got it
our love has spawned
these beautiful
beautifuls
and when you’ve got them
i am ultimately alone
alone in an ultimate way
a way i never anticipated
as we looked ahead
our mad plans
and said
i
do
today
i don’t
and i can’t imagine
what misguided joy caused you
to send me photos
happy photos
i guess you’re showing me
“our kids” are so happy
but
why
are you in any of the pictures
so i can put you up on my mantle
if i had a mantle
please leave yourself out
your smile still hurts
the ache now is for them
and the loss of any seconds
with them
you were my world
you are gone
please stay gone
thank you
4-30-14
for the story read: divorce support
image: dad and kid on the beach, dinuraj k, creative commons usage
an infinite goodbye
[from a second wave – poetry]
the next time I saw her
i was unable to look in her eyes
too much had passed
words that should’ve never been spoken
and i didn’t want to see
the smile, the body, the hair eyes breasts and skin
that i adored for years and years
now stripped from my grasp
from beneath my fingers
i no longer had beauty beside me
and in my loneliness
i found
how we’d never been quite honest with one another
she’d not told me of her trespasses
and I had taken the path of non-resistance
and left her alone
in the bed
trying to sleep
rather than make love
we were tired
she deserved her rest
but
i fell
through the cracks
and let my energy dissipate
with every night i did not demand
that she love me back
that she receive my touch
that she reclaim her own joy
the part I had fallen in love with
it was not my part to recover her
so i fiddled
and complained
but did not demand
my fully empowered wife
to reignite
perhaps it was …
no it was both of us
it was nobody’s fault
but mine
7-18-14
image: Olivia Arezzolo by Gervin Puse, creative commons usage
this very last second of love i have for you
[from a second wave – poetry]
this very last second of love i have for you
is slipping beneath the spilled blood
your talons, now withdrawn, have damaged everything
nothing that remains will survive this
and i can see, from your anger
that there is still fury inside
even after the sun and moon have set
and we all survived
but somehow
your survival, your portion, is not enough
how is that?
which part of fair did i miss?
how was the 50/50 parent
not a valid co-parent
in your eyes
surely our kids know
surely you know
this is not about love or peace
or them
this is about you
your desires
and your pound of flesh or two
but why
what still burns so hot inside you
to bring such vengeance from above
what part of this family
has gotten you so angry
it seems your counselors
need to examine the hot rage
the blistering wit and anger
that rises like a cobra within seconds
i’m glad i was not alone the last time
we had a third-party
and we survived
but i realized why i would never have survived
your wrath
over and over
as you ground
everything to a halt
so you could get off
out
on
with something else
4-15-14
image: 229/365, martinak15, creative commons usage
single dad
[from The Black Pages – poetry]
this is a love letter with a poison dart
but it’s only hurting me
i cannot help my sadness
abandonment
anger
i don’t want to help it
i reel in it
as i learn what i miss
what parts are taken or unspoken
a father alone
stands outside the circle of women
teachers, moms, educators, networks
are not comfortable with the angry dad
or sad, not doing so well, losing
it was not planned this way
the functions are all in place
but the numerator has been lost
the dividing line not clearly explained
we slog along with imperfect ideas
of how to say it right
to be gentle
to work out our issues elsewhere
but the blood is being spilled elsewhere
am i to be happy, to celebrate
as i am threatened with losing my home
my survival as dad is at risk
my survival
and i don’t doubt the sheriff
may be called at some point
but there is no more me
to go around
i am trying
i am hopeful and charging head-on
but the issue is different this time
i am the enemy
yet we are still a team
how does the tiger not eat the boat captain
yes
love is still all around
love is what moves us
and the implosion of love is something else
it is not hate, there is no black heart
yet the safety structures have been threatened
fucking maslow has dropped me to my knees
i am not dead
or dead-beat
i am beating my chest
still
to ask
what gives this time
where is the flexibility
how do we continue
there is no
win
10-24-13
and in that moment, when you knew
[from The Black Pages – poetry]
couldn’t you believe in something so pure
so cracked and desirable as us
don’t you think weathering the storm
would’ve been better than this
let us orbit and veer along
a few. more. fucking. years.
not that there was much fucking
i’m sorry
i don’t mean to be mean
i’m sorry
i’m not
what must’ve been the point when you snapped
even before i suspected damage
how frightening to make the decision
to seek counsel
to weigh the options, pros, cons
of hearts and young minds and us
i know it was not a snap decision
you had marshalled your resources and assembled a team
there was no transgression but there must’ve been
a moment
when the fall outweighed the Summer
when you turned away, rather that towards
and in that moment, when you knew
what was it like
did you pity me and my ignorant irritations
did you warn me of your failing light
when you finally said, “I don’t love you.”
it must’ve been a phrase you had tried on before
practiced with your team and counselors
a firmness in the declaration of war
as the waves of rapture broke over me
i understood where your passion had been hiding
not under the bed, or in the stress of life
it was being withdrawn in preparation for the end
it wasn’t for me to rekindle
the flame had been deliberately
put out
i didn’t recover well from the shock
as I sent my messengers for help
i didn’t stand as a partner in battle
i fell like a defeated child
mute with uncertainty and fear
but I rallied
i assembled a war council of my own
sending treaties and love letters
alternating course and coercive vollies
that found no receiver
until finally, i surrendered
the bloodshed never came
there was no fight in fighting your lover
there was no glory in losing gracefully
there was nothing left
to fight for
6-4-13
perhaps you were a cat from another country
[from The Black Pages – poetry]
listen to this poem (mp3 file)
the cat’s tail rubbing across my leg as he heads back into the new house
somewhere I picked that habit up myself, stroke, pat, brush, touch
perhaps you were a cat from another country, where casual touch led to violence
maybe it was fear, or even an unknowing of yourself and the things that made you happy
touching is reconnecting
a happy touch is fulfilling in itself
oh, my cat buries his entire body in my chest, like a small writhing fur coat
and i too have the capacity for emersion and merging, we know it when we feel it
perhaps you had been hurt before, and maybe even I did things that closed you more
now the cat and I exchange love, a cat you’ll never know
thanks for the kids, you’re a proud mom, and you are a great mom
and my incessant need for connection will be met elsewhere
The Off Parent
4-30-11
permalink: https://theoffparent.com/cat-from-another-country/
