Bangers and Mash

One of three, the father 

blessed for being the most like him.

His second, a striver, 

tried harder. Determined to make 

the most of his meager talents, 

he built himself a home and industry.

The third, had his antenna tuned 

to a different frequency. Never very good 

at playing house, he always wanted to live 

in some other place; a city of harbors, 

where the wilderness couldn’t be tamed.

The idea of being a stranger 

among strangers tugged at his shoelaces 

from the very moment he discovered 

he could run.

What I’ve left behind is irretrievable, 

though not necessarily irreplaceable. 

One lover’s voice is rarely discernible 

from another’s in the nocturnal din 

of mismatched predicates. 

Chow Mien, Sushi, bangers and mash --

there’s always something on the menu

when you’re hungry enough. 

When you let your desires rule 

the ways you navigate, the premise 

of a promise is as miscast as the casting 

of Linda Blair for Audrey Hepburn -- 

a cheap conjuring trick, perhaps, 

but usually enough for a meal.

Reviews

[Red Brick Keshner]

If in it there's enough for a meal it surely would be a steal!
When appreciation and value translate into other modalities of life it may just be a happier place for all.
That's speaking from the 'outcast' pov. Not much of an adventurer here but close, more of the explorer type, while there, a forced or unintentional adventurer perhaps.

[Ken e Bujold]

You are on the right track Fred. I've never considered myself an adventurer, or an explorer really, even though i have seen much more of the world than most I would hazard a guess.
It's only now with the gray hair settling in that I am beginning to understand the contradictions that our me. I would say if I had to put a tag on it, "I'm a restless soul". I don't do boredom well. I can and do enjoy my solitudes, give me a good book to read, or ten as is usually the case, and I can appear as sedate as a dead cat at a dog and pony show. But, then comes the moment when I want to be elsewhere, quite often for no other reason than it's not here. if that makes sense to you.
before i met my wife, this led me to and into all sorts of strange places and situations. when you are not responsible for anyone but yourself it's easy to roam. Took me along time to find her. For all my faults she is as true as true, and somehow manages to manage my urges. She only had two rules when we married: pick a place as home base and stick to it, travel all we want, but we come home. which was a bit of test for me in the beginning, still is to a degree. The second one was much easier, my dog days had to be a thing of the past.
this poem is just me working through and out of what was from the safety of what is

[Red Brick Keshner]

It makes definite sense. And that I find only increases as the days accrue: to be there rather than here syndrome and an inverse phenomenon accelerating at the same rate is the strictures and inability to just roam freely!
I may be engaging a variant of that but similar enough to make those connections.

[willweb]

Okay, I have a sister, a few years younger, but as for the outcast...that would be me. I definitely had my antennae tuned to a far different frequency than anyone else in my family. I moved away early and stayed away for a very long time. Amends had been made toward the end and though nothing was ever firmly cast in stone that I was disconnected, I think people knew> I am happy I managed to bury the hatchet (whether real or imagined) before it was too late. Your poem spoke to me and not in a condescending fashion but, man to man. Thank you for sharing this, Ken.

[Ken e Bujold]

similar stories you and I will. while not so much an outcast, i was/am an adventurer. Have and will continue to roam the world in search of what I don't know but wish to know. rest of my sibs can barely get themselves out of town let alone the country.

[Betty Hermelee]

It's tough when you're the black sheep of the family ( I was) and the other siblings are more unexceptional ... one (perhaps you) was the adventurer..... who wanted to drift to strange places with strange people (my son)
but when you're away from family it's not all roses....yes, you can always find a kind meal to eat, but there is always something missing.....family; you must learn to decipher different voices and and customs; but sometimes when you venture far away your desires aren't always met; there are misgivings always because of your expectations.. ... you are miscast .
Well written... just my own feelings
Best, B

[Ken e Bujold]

thanks for in-depth review and thoughts betty. the adventurer is me. though not a black sheep. poem is both bio and non bio...just began from view of the prodigal son parable

[Betty Hermelee]

I didn't really mean a black sheep, just
different!!!
And you're very welcome Ken!read moreI didn't really mean a black sheep, just
different!!!
And you're very welcome Ken!
Best, B

[D. Mansfield]

I'm one of five, and an only son, Ive managed to survive with my antenea tuned differntly. Just barely at times but its survival. I liked your poem, it's a frequesnt topic, for my thoughts to wander, family is a heavy heavy load, that we all carry with us, whether in proximity to them or not. thanks for sharing it, and Happy New Year

[Chris Shaw]

Three sons and the father has his favorite. Such a pity I think that one was blessed while the others weren’t given credit for their own uniqueness. Sad it would be if we were all chips off the same block. I was one of five. All of us were made to feel special and I hope I have carried that forward in my own family. We all navigate differently, we all learn at a different pace, Thanks ken and may I wish you a happy and healthy new year.

Chris

[Ken e Bujold]

best wishes to you and yours as well Chris. This one isn't biographical, just a riff on the prodigal son story, which came to mind the other day. My parents were more than fair in their favoritism, still all four of us have travelled immensely different roads, which i often find myself thinking about. Two of my siblings have never traveled outside the country, and have no interest in doing so. the third went to paris twenty plus yrs ago for a week and now considers he's seen the world. Why this i don't rightly know, but it engages my mind.

[Chris Shaw]

So pleased this isn’t biographical Ken because I know some who have suffered as a result of being at the back of the queue. The five of us all turned out so different. The boys were adventurous, risk takers, pioneers in attitude whereas us girls were cautious, careful plodders who all did well in their own way. Thanhs for the additional info. I have been quiet in poetry. I need to refocus in the new year.

[John the Baptist]

The last stanza here makes the poem. The preceding ones are a meditation on the past, tinged by both regret and philosophy. The last stanza, though, shows the development of insight, a reward apparently hard earned. It verifies the role of this life as a school.

[Ken e Bujold]

sharp take on the conclusion John. That's what I was aiming for

[W. Barrett Munn]

So I see something here has been exorcised. I like this piece a lot but I don’t know if it is my weirdness or not that I feel the start of stanza 2 gets redundant-either a striver or tried harder but are both really necessary?

Winston

[Ken e Bujold]

While I can see what you are getting at, I think the two are necessary. Here's why: through the first 3 stanza there is a double line being straddled. The narrator's view, as well as the father's faint echo. He chose one, the other, the striver, tried harder, but I want to insert the question if ever so slightly, is striver, harder the derision of the third brother, or some combination of brother's residuals in conjuction with the father's view of application of talent, or lack there of?
If you also look close, you will notice, I never say who is first second or last born. I know most readers will assume they come in order of listing, but that is only an assumption.
With the shift to I in the concluding verses I make it known the "I" is the shirker but also want to parlay that into as John rightly notices, the development of perspective. One brother was given, another conformed, the third built himself a world according to his own appetites.
Or so the poet hopes it reads.