I had Christmas dinner last night with the family, dad was a bit quiet early on but later we talked quite a bit as he ate a late meal of headcheese and various nuts. During the main meal dad had most everything and was still eating after everyone else finished. He is wheelchair bound now which is a huge downer for him and us but life goes on. I am so thankful that I was able to spend one more Christmas Eve with my beautiful father. He made it to Christmas but can he make our joint birthday? It is still 3 months and a bit away.
The strangest part of the night was when I was given the head of the table chair and dad was put at the other end in his wheelchair. I guess it was the patching of the torch, it made me sad to sit there. Somehow it did not feel right to be sitting in dads chair.
These poor things I call poems are of low quality but they offer me an creative and unique method of expression. I find I am enjoying writing them more and more, they allow me to say things in an more universal and ambiguous way. Plus poems are fun to make, I can let my deeper thoughts and feelings come forth, clearing things that I need to purge. These poems are not much but they are at least honest, they are my feelings, my thoughts, my memories and hopes. What more, what else could you ask for as an artist than another way, another chance to try and express what you feel in your heart of hearts. Poetry is just one more way for me to try and tell the stories I need to try to tell.
If my interest in poetry holds just like with the photography, the quality will eventually improve. Here are 2 versions of a poem I wrote today Christmas day, the second being a bit more optimistic because of the added stanza.
Version #1
Xmas Dinner
A broken Xmas not as times gone by
Dad in a wheelchair, this will be his last
My sister wined and high, caught only in her past
Mom lost, forgotten, trying to fill the holes
Me numb and timid unsure of my current roles
Oh the joys of past Xmas lost
Life was so much truer then
The answers straight and forward so
No confusion or reflections, things so clean and clear
Only bright and brilliant joys, did our future lives behold.
Version #2
Xmas Dinner
A broken Xmas not as times gone by
Dad in a wheelchair, this will be his last
My sister wined and high, caught only in her past
Mom lost, forgotten, trying to fill the holes
Me numb and timid unsure of my current roles
Oh the joys of past Xmas lost
Life was so much truer then
The answers straight and forward so
No confusion or reflections, things so clean and clear
Only bright and brilliant joys, did our future lives behold
What tomorrows Xmas brings, we certainly do not know
I'm sure it will match not our memories of the gilded past
But push on forward as we must, uncertain of our fates
Let us choose to smile, not to frown, our lives are ours to make
Merry Merry Xmas.
The strangest part of the night was when I was given the head of the table chair and dad was put at the other end in his wheelchair. I guess it was the patching of the torch, it made me sad to sit there. Somehow it did not feel right to be sitting in dads chair.
These poor things I call poems are of low quality but they offer me an creative and unique method of expression. I find I am enjoying writing them more and more, they allow me to say things in an more universal and ambiguous way. Plus poems are fun to make, I can let my deeper thoughts and feelings come forth, clearing things that I need to purge. These poems are not much but they are at least honest, they are my feelings, my thoughts, my memories and hopes. What more, what else could you ask for as an artist than another way, another chance to try and express what you feel in your heart of hearts. Poetry is just one more way for me to try and tell the stories I need to try to tell.
If my interest in poetry holds just like with the photography, the quality will eventually improve. Here are 2 versions of a poem I wrote today Christmas day, the second being a bit more optimistic because of the added stanza.
Version #1
Xmas Dinner
A broken Xmas not as times gone by
Dad in a wheelchair, this will be his last
My sister wined and high, caught only in her past
Mom lost, forgotten, trying to fill the holes
Me numb and timid unsure of my current roles
Life was so much truer then
The answers straight and forward so
No confusion or reflections, things so clean and clear
Only bright and brilliant joys, did our future lives behold.
Version #2
Xmas Dinner
A broken Xmas not as times gone by
Dad in a wheelchair, this will be his last
My sister wined and high, caught only in her past
Mom lost, forgotten, trying to fill the holes
Me numb and timid unsure of my current roles
Life was so much truer then
The answers straight and forward so
No confusion or reflections, things so clean and clear
Only bright and brilliant joys, did our future lives behold
What tomorrows Xmas brings, we certainly do not know
I'm sure it will match not our memories of the gilded past
But push on forward as we must, uncertain of our fates
Let us choose to smile, not to frown, our lives are ours to make
Merry Merry Xmas.
