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

[Coyote Poetry]

I loved this poem.
"he accepted, i accepted
and today we write together,
even though
i am still the one who holds the pen."
The above lines. Wonderful. To find a understanding. Thank you Jacob for sharing the amazing poetry.
Coyote

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind words, Coyote,

j.

[Coyote Poetry]

You are welcome my friend.