the Man and me

the Man and me

 

 

 

if he had been a writer, too

would Father have referred to my writing

as "just passable"

"deplorable"

"fine"?

his engineer self

put together mechanically---

form and structure

but not the rhyme or meter kind

 

he never understood me

until his hair grew completely gray

and he let his beard grow out---

 

as if there was a part of him that wanted always

to rebel against the norm

against the upper class form

 

to find a certain construction

in things outside the box---

he lived within a world created for him

in refineries, New York offices

a marriage of moving upscale

 

of black and white

of things having a place and a place for things

of neatness

&

near perfection

 

kindness a bit soured with prejudice

a helping hand that might pick and choose

 

and words---

a strong voice

non-poetic

more technical in a hands-on sense

than a heart-on sense,

although in his core

deep love existed---

(he just most times hid

behind the gruff exterior of his life)

 

and it existed for me,

despite a side that lacked understanding

for what i was,

i wrote poems

his nomenclature for that was "hobby"

 

we didn't take each other seriously

really...

until recently

even as the conversations diminished

shortened

found limits

 

love flourished

i still wrote poems

he acknowledged them

without really reading or understanding

 

but got "it"

whatever "it" was or is

now

 

he accepted, i accepted

and today we write together,

even though

 

i am still the one who holds the pen.

 

erin-cilberto

1/12/17

Reviews

[Lydia Shutter]

This one brought tears to my eyes. Our fathers were from a generation that did not show much emotion and did not have much patience for poetry or art. They loved us and provided for us even if they never said the words "I love you." As they age, roles do reverse though. We understand more....perhaps because we are older now. You are so fortunate to still have a relationship with your dad. He is proud of you...believe that. Lydi**

[jacob erin-cilberto]

very true...not much emotion, but much more in these later years...thank you, Lydi.
j

[Paul Bell]

I think from the age of 3 till 11. Your father is the hero. Then after that he doesn't understand you.
You then drift apart. Years later you sort of tolerate each other. Sometimes becoming buddies.
Hope that's the case with you.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

similar...but we have always been pretty good buddies...just very different when it comes to the artsy kind of thing.

thank you, Paul.

j.

[Norman 223]

As a father, I found it difficult to avoid trying to influence my son, who had decided to become an artist. My father thought me mad when I gave up a secure government job to become a scientific photographer.
Parental disapproval never succeeded in being
a bar in either case. Happiness and satisfaction wins out eventually.
You demonstrated this beautifully in your poem, Jacob.

N.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your very kind review, Norman---yes, wasn't an easy road all the time---he wasn't that keen.

j.

[KTizzle]

your father reminds me of people in my freshman year of college and my high school environmental science teacher. They would always pick on me because my major was English or I wanted to major in English, followed by "what would you do with it?" "English is useless" (of course that's why nobody uses it, right?). It used to bug me, even got to me so bad I changed my major until I came right back to my love for literature.

I came to the conclusion that the love and passion I have for literature fulfills me and everyone is looking for that fulfillment in different ways.

I loved how you described your father. My favorite lines were this: "of black and white
of things having a place and a place for things
of neatness
&
near perfection" they showed a great contrast between the eyes of a poet, and the eyes of someone with a completely different view. Poetry can be messy, outside the box, and full of bursting color/possibilities.

Thought provoking write.

-Jazz

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for sharing how you relate, Jazz....yes, exactly what my dad said once about my poetry," can you get a job in it?"

j.

[Bare trees]

Some people are football fans that would never read a poem. That type of thing is too flowery and weak for them. The same holds true with hands-on people. If it has no machinery, no gears, no parts, they don't understand it. They don't understand the people that participate in poetry and writing.

Understanding another's mind is not always easily grasped by some. Time must be taken. Yet, when the wall is slowly chipped away, there is not only an allowance but a degree of love that blossoms.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

very insightful words, Pale...thank you for them...

j.

[Gypsy Warrior Queen]

This is a very touching piece Jacob! I am so glad I took a few to peek into today🙄back a bit later for more easy reading. Happy Friday!

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your words, Queenie..

j.

[gabrielle]

I remember my niece in this piece. She's into visual arts. Sure, we support her on what she does but some members of the family may have preconditioned her to chose a more traditional profession in the future instead of focusing on arts.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

yes, that is in so many families, and so unfortunate...
the arts have their place and some are prone to painting, writing, music...and should be encouraged...we don't have enough of them..

thank you, again...

j.

[John Alexander McFadyen]

There is a certain sadness throughout this piece and a touch of resigned resentment as reflection on years of non-approval bit into the psyche. The ending is of course a resolution and an acquiescence to the maturing of the love bond that bound the protagonist and his father despite the rejection felt. A poem full of insight, confused emotion and love Jacob.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind review, John...

j.

[Jimmy Yetts]

You eventually appealed to--and reached--your father's beatnik, hippie, artistic side.
Now, you and he rock on--even though, you're the one who still holds the pen.
Cool!

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your insights, Jimmy...a long road it's been, indeed.

j.

[Tony Jordan]

They say the Apple doesn't fall far from the tree but maybe it rolls a fair but. Then when it takes root itself they can grow closer and their branches share the same space and Sun.
A lovely coming of that other age Jacob. Truly beautiful writing from the heart.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i like how you used the phrase, " A lovely coming of that other age"
i like that...thank you, Tony...
j.

[Tony Jordan]

My pleasure Jacob. :)