by Scott Allan Tacke
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Rated "G" by the Author.
Print Save Become a Fan
His being's formed in seconds sweet.
Those timeless moments when they first meet
To join and bond him into one —
His precious life has just begun.
He sits and floats within the void,
The dark and warmth he's much enjoyed,
So free from all the pain and strife;
The black and hate of outside life.
But one day he is shocked to find
The fleshy sac, around him 'twined,
Has burst and he's been muscled forth
In hours of traumatic birth.
The people hold him up and smile,
They dress him in the latest style,
And there he lies; a wooden cage
From whence he bellows forth his rage.
His unintelligible words
Speak of butterflies and the birds
That fly around his baby-blue,
Little carriage pushed by you.
There in his toothless, gaping laughs
You see the memories of the past,
And wish that it were only true :
The child that sleeps right now were you.
Because you now want after years
To wipe away the streams of tears,
And have your life back to enhance —
If only you could have the chance.
But you must come back to your fate,
The sun is low, it's getting late.
You wheel the hungry human being
Back to his home to sleep and dream.
Like so, he grows each passing day;
A prisoner in this world he'll stay,
But does his very best to cope
With gems of love and golden hope.
Still, through erosion, year by year,
He's worn away by your same tears,
And soon his diamonds turn to dust —
His precious metals turn to rust.
He marries and, within a year,
His wife confirms his deepest fear:
The consummation of their love
Has brought a blessing from above.
So, once again the cycles starts —
A child's born to two bursting hearts,
Yet they gaze down in guilt and shame,
Both wishing they were once again
A babe so innocent and sweet,
Whose pinkened flesh and wrinkled feet
Had not touched down on rocky soil,
Nor tasted tiredness and toil.
They wish they'd led a perfect life;
With trembling hands withheld the knife
Which ripped in into nothingness —
They want their lives back... nothing less.
Should it be known, it's not too late,
The crypt's stone door can't seal your fate
Until your last breath casts its reek
Up through your throat and past your cheek.
So take the time now while you may
To live the fullest every day —
To taste and see and smell and hear
The things you've passed up every year.
Take notice of the summer breeze
That flows like oceans through the trees,
And deadened leaves like scabs that fall
From mighty oaks grown strong and tall.
Or listen to the gentle song
Of birds that chirp upon the lawn,
And pepper skies in distant flight
'Gainst pastel clouds of pink and white.
My friends, this panacea pure
Is your one, absolute, true cure
To break this iron wheel of fate,
And mend its spokes until they're straight.
So do not envy every child
Who yawns with velvet cheeks so mild,
For gnashing jaws of woe and pain
Will someday rend his heart and brain.
But pray he learns this lesson too,
Which now has let you start anew,
And hope all burn life's candle bright,
And love its glow by day or night.
Want to review or comment on this
Click here to login!
Need a FREE Reader Membership?
Click here for your Membership!
|Reviewed by Paivi Giannios
|A beautiful, positive, hopeful poem about parenthood! I love the ending wih its suggestion on "break[ing] this iron wheel of fate," by pointing out that if the child can "[learn] this lesson too" of "tak[ing] notice of the summer breeze," he (and the parent as well) will have the opportunity to "start anew," and "burn life's candle bright/And love its glow by dy or night." A memorable, endearing account!|
|Reviewed by Lois Christensen
|To live it up, to taste, see, smell and hear. That is the most enjoyable of life and little chldren learn each in time as their growth pattern comes along. Life is a cycle over and over again I find God's love in everything, though.|
|Reviewed by Deborah Munson (Reader)
|My words don't do this poem justice. A true work of art. Deborah|
|Reviewed by Poetess of The Soul Sheila G
|I found someone who can write long and in interesting detail, as myself in my writings!
This brought back many wonderful happy memories!
YOur style of writing I am enjoying!
And congratulation on being a smart, exciting and tolerant dad! The best blessing there is!
Warmest Blessings, Light and Peace, Warrior Purple Lady Sheooxoo
|Reviewed by Charlie
|And so it goes... a little pedantic at the end, but shows a true cycle for sure, and in impecable meter. --Charlie|