A Salute

He wouldn't want this

rather I'd run the wolves and swing a club

make his life long love smile

as he's lost in his younger laugh

To those that know the depth of such men

they do not want or need of these things

A father who served and never once brought it home

A father that never had use for a gun

I knew even then by his stance

His words came few

A knowing of someone that loves from

both depth and pain

At the time he was a serious man

but I do not believe he ever knew

how deeply I watched

Yet, 

how could I not

No-

he wouldn't want this

rather I'd run through the mountains 

or a game of chess

few strums at an old guitar

but he is my father and 

I am his only son with a respect that mirrors the love

Author's Note

done

Reviews

[1809 Black Plague Decem..]

Poems are so hard for me to take.
Because the harsh truth is within them,
I hide my feelings, my thoughts, my examplifications
of life with just short stories, but at times I do tell,
and it's not always sweet; so I hold esteem ----maynard

[Perdition]

Not quite sure I got this one’s meaning, but thanks for reading and for your honest and upfront review ?

[1809 Black Plague December]

sure thing Perdition, LOL :D

[Pete]

nice when you don't have to worry about powder burns or recoil. a fifty caliber write. good stuff ... :)

[Perdition]

Thanks and absolutely!!

[Ken e Bujold]

a very special bond to a father, penned with much affection. great read P

[Perdition]

Well, he is the plague of my life..hahaha, Thanks Ken and he is the eternal officer and the gentleman even in retirement~

[Chris Shaw]

A father who served and never once brought it home

That tells this reader so much

A man of few words. A deep thinker who has known pain.

I am thinking here of an old frail man maybe in his second childhood, being cared for by his son. He wouldn’t want this.

There is deep respect here. I sense a true bond. The old man is not a man of words, but his son is.

I found this to be a very moving poem. Touched me it did. I never knew my Dad as an old man. He died at sixty. Your poem had me pondering on what he may have been like in old age. I wish I had found out.

Chris

[Perdition]

OH wow...yeah that kills me to hear, as I sit here thinking of the life experiences we've shared ...Pops! Yeah mostly correct but he's up there alright and everyday matters...He is still trying to get ready for golf at nearly...well further along by quite some years but the heart of a young man and if I could exchange bodies..he'd be welcome to it. But he wouldn't want it..lol. Thank you so much for sharing your Father as well Chris...I wish all were as lucky or as fortunate with parents as I feel. Namaste a thousand times over~

[Chris Shaw]

Ha! Your line,
as he’s lost in his younger laugh, had me fooled. There was I thinking he had reverted to his second childhood (much like my aunt these days). Instead you have a Father with a young heart, wanting to play golf:)) How marvelous is that. I enjoyed this salute to a special man in your life. Hope your day has been kind to you.

Chris

[Perdition]

Thanks, Chris and it has so smiles all around and ten times returned!

[Perdition]

Read your wonderful review again and all I can feel was that your father, most likely would have loved his daughter had he lived longer and the pride, though always there and though we deeply seek it , I believe it would have come secondary to his love. I just thought myself the buffoon for not having touched on that part of your kind review….deep apologies and no need for any response, just please accept my apologies Chris!

[jacob erin-cilberto]

reminds me of my feelings towards my father...we didn't agree on many things, but the important thing was our bond as father and son and has buddies as well.
we had a comfort level hard to find...I miss him every day.
thanks for this poem, Perdition...
I salute my dad!

[Perdition]

Glad I could bring that out...I told him about it this morning and rather than hear it he just moved on to the poems he had written when he was younger about my mom and the ones we wrote together through the years ...the Challenger crashing, Nine Eleven, and surprisingly a small cross I had made out of stick and vine and put into the snow where I had buried a sister's cat that he came upon and wondered who made it...had to laugh. Wondered when we were going golfing...he can barely move but let's go ...right? A salute to your father as well and all fathers as well as anyone else who had to endure, what thankfully I was too young to know other than what was coming through the Magnovox which I deeply recall. Cheers J.~