Son of His Father

mild and moderate November
early sun yawns sleepy eyed
peeps through veiled cloud
casts golden on fallen leaves
a garden in waiting

shows various states of decay
scattered on crazy paving
a busy collage on uncut grass
green blades smothered
fighting for air

small boy in Halloween pajamas
doesn’t care for his warm coat
armed with a too large rake
it isn’t cold he says
work before breakfast eggs

son of his father
a pirate in a blue plastic boat
a treasure chest afloat
on a storm of autumn rainfall
so many moons ago
wet wet wet

Reviews

[RomaJ]

Aw this is adorable. I can picture my own children , when they were little and eager to help. Kids just love being outdoors, and sometimes chores just seem fun for small children, when they're too busy having fun they forget its cold. Their imaginations quickly becoming an adventure and it's such a beautiful thing to watch. I miss my kids when they were this little. I remember my son had a favorite batman costume, if it were up to him, he would wear it everyday haha. This was so charming to read.
Roma

[Chris Shaw]

Thank you Roma. Those memories are so precious aren’t they? My youngest grandson stayed recently, couldn’t wait to get in the garden to rake up the leaves in the same garden where his Dad played. It stirred up lovely memories of a little pirate afloat so many moons ago. So pleased you enjoyed this poem.

Chris

[RomaJ]

Oh that is just lovely. I'm not yet there. I'm not yet a grandma. My eldest is just focused on his education and career. But I often dream, he will make me a grandmother someday. Heartwood and Silvermoons, is actually inspired by dream of my son and his fiancé, having twins and I was desperate in that dream to find something to give them. Looking at my child becoming a man. I'm proud of him but also, miss him, when he was small. My heart melts just thinking of a grand child who would be just like his father. Even that thought feels precious. Your poem is even more precious and truly heartfelt. God bless you and your family.

[Chris Shaw]

Thank you Roma. I am truly blessed with my grandchildren. You have much to look forward to. Time flies by and the little ones grow up so quickly. These memories become so precious to us, especially as we age.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

whether we admit it or not, in so many ways we become our fathers...we just do.
It almost scares us at the same time it calms us.
Especially, if they were good role models for us.
"green blades fighting for air" interesting line...feeling smothered by expectation? fighting to be our own person? Lots of ways to read that.
j.

[Chris Shaw]

Thank you j. I see similarities all the time between my littlest grandson and his dad, but then there are differences too. Just the same as me and my father. Smiled at the smothered leaves. My Dad was very, very protective of his three daughters. If he’d had his way, none of us would have left home :)).

Chris

[red93]

I love how you use the collage motif as a metaphor, and indeed the Poem itself is a type of verbal collage, with many disparate and competing elements. Exceptional ✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️

[Chris Shaw]

Dear Tony, I like what you saw in my poem. The leaves are like a collage of the life of my grandson and his father before him. So many memories in my garden where they both have played. Have a beautiful day.

Chris

[W. Barrett Munn]

What more is there to say but, Jolly good, me lady.

[Chris Shaw]

Thank you Winston. Pleased you stopped by. All the best to you.

Chris

[petec3638]

you got our garden perfectly

little now has pyjama shorts and dressing gown
I keep saying get something on your legs they will freeze
and he keeps ignoring me
The plastic boat is now sunk due to the neighbours dog
who had a fight with it and swallowed some plastic
requiring a visit to a vet
Serve it right for sinking the battered old boat

[Chris Shaw]

Dear Peter, thank you for sharing your garden with me. We have similar memories. All good wishes to you. Look after yourself.

Chris

[Soren]

I love the presentation of this poem in fragments as if each line was a passing thought not yet formed into a coherent flow. This flash of images is like the stream of thought, bouncing from on to another. it seems reflections of the past and there is a nostalgic feel to it. Loved it even set in sepia of the leaves.

[Chris Shaw]

A mix of of present and nostalgia. My youngest grandson was very enthusiastic to help in the garden, it brought back memories of his Dad, the little pirate, who played in the same garden nany moons ago. Thank you Soren for another lovely review. Much appreciated.

Chris

[Soren]

You are always most welcome Chris