Poems
 

I hate to start a new thread with every poem. Some of them are worthwhile; others are dross. Maybe this can be a general thread for poems, good and/or not so good? This one rants about my frustrations with and love for my father. I idolized him throughout childhood, but of course no one can live up to that and neither did he. He was infinitely preferable to my savagely abusive mother, but that was a low bar.

Nevertheless, he came to my horse shows and cheered me on, standing in the rain.

Later, he bailed on a marriage that was abusive to him, but took up with a woman who could have been a clone of the one he ran from. She always hated us, his children.

I always/still have wanted to have a parent to love.

eta: I'm sorry; this is me trying to deal with old wounds. Probably not applicable to many. But if any others want to post real poems, I'd love to read them.

Only a Boy

Could possibly have
Met your expectations

Only a boy
Could have walked with you
Talked with you
Been your incarnation

Only a boy
Would have satisfied you
Carried on the name
Wouldn’t bear the blame

Of your failure
To do right by
Those who really bore your name

Only a boy
Could have loved you
Without restraint

Only a boy
Would have done as I did
Traitor yet become a saint

Only in your eyes
Yet you never did protect me
Let me feel the subtle taint

Of having loved you
But your love was for another
I was easy to disdain

I was your boy
Always tried to love you
Tried to earn your regard
Not to mention your love

But that was not forthcoming

All men are assholes
Said a wise man I met later

Too late for my salvation

In my childhood
I played with dolls
I gave them names
Frankline, Josephine …
They were boys, as was I
Only wanted to admire you
Wanted to inspire you
Wanted your love

But that was reserved
For the boy you always wanted
The boy you adopted
Then rejected
When he wasn’t good enough

Why did I always
Try to, want to, need to be
Your boy
The boy
Who’d meet your expectations

Only a boy
Could meet your expectations

Oh, hell Ortho, that's brilliant.

sometimes I wonder how I'm damaging my kids.
I came from a divorced family, saw dad every other weekend. I don't really feel any angst about it. I don't feel disappointed or resentful. I don't idolize Dad, but I do respect him. Mom did a very good job considering her challenges, and I appreciate her.
but sometimes, when I read something like this, I wonder. What will Ripley think of me in 20 years? will she blame one or the other of us for breaking up? will she give it any thought at all? and Spencer... I don't really think he's going to have any issues, but then maybe he does, and just won't share them.

I tell them I love them all the time. I am pretty sure they believe me. what else can you really do?

Why was your Father's love not enough, ortho? Because you think he'd rather have had a boy? I have both, and there are aspects of each I prefer.

I'd agree with this, but I worry that my daughter will feel like I've shortchanged her by spending more time with my son. Because I do. My daughter and I have a hard time finding things in common, and she prefers to spend her free time in her room with the door closed. My son prefers to spend his free time being active and engaging.

The good thing is that eating dinner together is a priority, so we have conversations at meals. But that's about it.

Is that a general personality thing, or is it to do with age?

both.

She's at the surly teenager age. (Not really surly, but you know...) But she's also always loved to read instead of interact with someone.

Maybe she feels safe and secure in her position in the family so she doesn't feel she needs to compete with her brother for your attention.

Or... she's paying her brother to keep you busy so she can do what she wants without all that icky family stuff.

Or... she has a wardrobe in her room connected to Narnia.

I'd guess as long as you make yourself available when/if she decides she needs it, you should be cool. ;)

If you tell your kids you love them, that's huge. My parents talked a lot about all the conditions under which they would disown us but never explicitly said they loved us. Now they do, but the message was very different early on. My mother just says whatever she thinks will get her what she wants. If she feels secure, she becomes abusive; if she wants something from us, she loves us.

It was no secret in our family that my father wanted a son 'to carry on the family name'. It bothers him to this day (at 80) that there's no one to 'carry on the line'. He had 3 daughters and then he and my mother adopted a boy. They were upfront about the fact that our new little brother was to be the proud carrier of our surname, and teased my older sister that 'the crown prince outranks the crown princess'.

Yes, that is f**ked up.

More dross ...

Superhero

Please
Let me go to sleep tonight

I am happy
At peace tonight

Let me sleep
At last tonight
Experience release
Before tomorrow’s fight
Let me wake and do the least

And most
That I must;
I swear I’ll keep

My promises

I am happy tonight
At peace tonight

I lie to myself
But I still do what’s right
I am the superhero
Except at night

Let me go to sleep ...

i hate to post two drafts in one night. Still, this one came to mind as I thought about my training and the painful situations, the people I met, the frustration I felt as lives slipped away while I held hands with the dying and my staffmen played squash. And the crazy schedules, where staying up for 72 or more hours was the norm, and we all pretended we were bipolar (in terms of ability to go without sleep for days). And the inevitable burnout. Also my friend Arthur, who actually was bipolar and who didn't survive the crucible.

A Little Bipolar
for Arthur, with love and regret

A little bit
A little tad

Bipolar
It’s the fad

I am immense
I am intense
I am the sun

I live all day all night
Make my own daylight
Yet still I fight
I’m my own sun

I write the best
I’ve ever done
When I’m half-drunk
Not nearly done
I just release
All that turns to stone
And move on

I blaze all night
The shadows fade
I greet first light and pray
no answer comes

I am intense
I am the sun
I have done all of this
So many years

Worked the halls
Of The Best Damned Hospital in the Land
Stayed the weekend
With the Baba, Yaya, Oma, and
Listened to her whisper
Her fear, her pain
Held her hand as she died
While the boss played squash
Again

Worked the halls
Strode the halls
Denizen of the wards
Victim of the wards

Took on the man
Despised bereft
Broken jaw
No academic puzzle
Just an addict, just a thief
Knew what he needed; no, implied
Grabbed my arm would not let go
I know we all need
Need to get through the night

Fell asleep on the retractor
It happens to the best of us
Stabbed by the Ob/Gyn
Along with his victim
Happens to the rest of us

We do what we must
Leave the rest
If we’re lucky
Don’t distress
Don’t leave too soon
Arthur you are missed
You were the best of us
You left too soon

Later no more sleep
No more luck
Stayed up with a better crew
Still came unstuck

The first thing that
A principle does
Is kill someone
A wise man said
Don’t test that one
It’s true
The innocent are dead

And so we limp
Into the dark
We dread the call
we have no more
to give to those who need
our blood, our life, our seed

We cringe as we
Encounter those
We’ve bled and sewn
We cannot fill
The vast abyss
Of need and pain

We limp away
Into the dark
And seek oblivion
But still
The perverse spark
Refuses any place of respite

Yet

A little bit
A little tad
Bipolar it’s the fad

If not that, then what?
Just mad
We retreat into the shade
Hide from the sun
Afraid to speak to anyone

I was immense
I was intense
I was the sun

I could protect
I could defeat
Anyone

Oh I love both of those. That last one especially.


Damn, but you are a talented poet, Ortho.

Just saw this. Thanks, Dana. I'd been listening to Leonard Cohen and the first one, Superhero, got its rhythm from Cohen. The last one is the first time I've written anything about/for Arthur. The experiences were mine, but the environment was what each of us had to cope with. Arthur was such a good man ... Toronto was the worst possible place for him. It'll take more time and effort to do him justice. I wish we could have learned what we needed without the toxic and traumatic culture of 1980s medicine at The Best Damned Hospital in the Land.

Parents - "I Love You",
But they don't',
Life/Family - sucks.

No better feeling,
Than a child in your arms,
Asleep.

.