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c patrick durkin

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Member Since: Oct, 2005

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Featured Book
Exils Africains ... et il y eut David-Kanza
by Albert Russo

How Sandro left his Mediterranean island in the twenties for the Belgian Congo, how he met his future wife, Florence, who grew up in Rhodesia. They had two daughters, Ast..  
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You Are My Boy
by c patrick durkin
Monday, August 14, 2006
Rated "PG" by the Author.
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A older poem of mine, circa 2001.

You hands were wrinkled
from the days you spent at factories
and nights of digging dinner
out of cans of peas and
whipped potatoes, all to make sure
my mom never went to bed hungry.
I never learned of how hard you
lived, until you were in the ground.
Your smile and whistle
always scared away any
kind of hurry.

You used to wait for me,
downtown near the old Ritz theatre
where I waited for the bus.
I would walk in the alleyway
behind the theatre---
I was too cool to say hi to my grandma.

The times you did find me
you gave me
money and a red lipstick kiss
on the cheek. I would blush because
my friends would see me,
call me a fairy.

Those days are gone.
I am past Catholic collars and
I know you wouldn’t approve.
you probably knew I tried
to avoid you, hiding in the
back of the bus.

As I watched you in the hospital
fight against the specter
we all must meet,
I held your hand.
Was it too late?



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Reviewed by A PAX
You write so authentically
straight from the heart
beautifully.....
Reviewed by Chrissy McVay
Deep with emotion. Great write.
Reviewed by bluecornflower orangetiger
this is precious,C Patrick, thank you. Mary
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