father, a salesman

Father, a salesman

(the inspiration of this poem came from the first line from"Karl C Klein’s Unnatural Girl"whose stories published at www.karlcklein.gather.com and www.writerscafe.org/writers/karlklein/ should be read by serious readers) :

My father was a salesman.

That was all and that was all.

Memory did not recall

The commodities he sold.

The houses of his visits,

The shops or the offices.

 

A little pack of blue and

Obsolete face-crème once found

In an ancient attic…

“Had it been in his torn bag?”

Fingers wanted to trace his

Print of past long dead and gray.

 

The summer roads and shut doors

The watching bird with lazy

Wings folded together,

Oh sun, was it a journey

He had taken many times?

 

Only at night beside a

Wild and black mare he appeared.

“What were you?” asked a boy, me!

“Go and inquire your deep dream”,    

 Told the dying out image.

 

I know he was a salesman!

 

Reviews

[JC Fox]

This was wonderful, I love how another person's work can inspire your own work! There was another author on here that I highly enjoyed but I don't think he is here anymore and I can't find the work thanks to the big crash. Thanks for sharing this wonderful poem.

[Azaradelle]

Beautifully written. By the end i found i had goosebumps.
Another unique piece you have penned here which has left me in awe.
Thank you for sharing.

Yrs.

Azaradelle.