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Life of a FatherI stare soothing at the big blue eyes,Looking up at me with innocence—Cerulean skies observing the lines and creases of my face. He wants to cry, upset at being near all the loud people—People clanging their glasses together in toasts to the bride and groom,People slapping each other’s backs in embraces,All oblivious to the sensitive ears of Little Liam—But he sees my face,Knows he is safe in my arms,And a smile spreads.His little face lights up, and I place a kiss on his head.I know he wants to sleep, so I rock him back and forth in my arms.Swinging and turning gently as his eyes slowly blink closed.I smile—this is the life a father.There is nothing greater. ~ :: ~Another poem written for my Creative Writing class. It was supposed to use some sound, and it could only be between 12-16 lines. I don't like the writing of this one as much as my Staring Oceans poem, but considering this one has babies, it kinda evens out. I was originally going to write about a church (I still will, sometime, probably), but after I held my cousin's baby last weekend this was all I could think about, haha. Enjoy! Comments and constructive criticisms are much appreciated.
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Staring OceansOceans.They stare at youThrough the wooden edges of the frame.A snowy plane lines his cheeks, bushy and misshapenLike a wild plant, growing this way and that,Thinning here and there like his life.Soon it will all be gone.So will he.But he is still there for now, and he smiles at you,His bright blue eyes sparkling,His niveous beard a tangled mess.He looks at you in such a happy way—But such a strange way.He seems to be calling you,Inviting you.Perhaps he wishes to tell you a story.The twinkle in his eyes gives it away.Yes, this man has a story,A story he wants you to hear.Every day you see him come to this place.He brings with him a fishing line and a flag.An American flag, displaying it proudly as he goes.You see him tie the flag to the pier,And you watch it wave in the wind for a moment or two.The man watches with you, and smiles again—Pride.Pride for his country.He tells you how he had served in the military,Proudly bearing his uniform for four long years.Through trial and tribulation, he made it through.He made it home, when so many of his friends didn’t.You want to rush up and give him a huge hug—To tell him it’s okay.But you don’t.You realize he is hurting,You see it in those ocean-eyes of his, staring kindly at you.Yet, his smile remains. He is poor, coming here every day for his nightly meal of fish.Yet he does not complain. He simply smiles at you with his wrinkly face, and you smile back.And you both silently watch the vast ocean spread out before you.~ :: ~Now, there is a bit of explanation I need to post here. Usually I am against doing that (everything should be explained inside the story, not outside), but this was written for my Creative Writing class, and therefore had guidelines I needed to follow. The prompt was, paraphrased: "write a poem about a photograph. Start by describing the photograph, then tell a story about the person you described. Poem can only be 1 page long, and it cannot rhyme." So, because of that, I'm not completely satisfied with the ending, as I literally used every line I could (the title I even had to place in a header, because the poem was so long) and had to squish things together. But still, overall I am pretty happy with this. I haven't written a poem in literally years, so I'll definitely have to more, now, as I really enjoyed this. All comments/constructive criticisms are welcome! Enjoy!
