FATHER AND TIME

It is a wise father that knows his child.
__William Shakespeare

All the clocks that surround us mark off moments as they dissolve;
Steady drum of the second hand tick tocks like a time bomb,
Vanished down beneath the rising rush
Cast outside of reach of all that’s here
Or that frantic hands can seize or bear.

Like time, we will travel forward as moments become lean and swift,
Instances slipped within pale snapshots; smiles of odd, uneasy faces.
Tick tock goes the gesture, the nod.
Plunging seconds speed by exhausted
Below the pitch-black lather of time.

As summers own swimming and winter’s trudging speed through
Second hands rush on, prying the next season to scuttle forth.
Does it matter more what time it was
Or more that a moment’s remembered;
Vanished, frantic, outside of my reach?

All of the clocks shrug at this; my yearning to paint my father true,
To prevent time’s rolling course upon scatty legs made of seconds.
Cease your lean and speedy march.
If I’m to know him, you've got to stop,
Time, before you run out of clock.

© 2009 mrp/thepoetryman

ONCE UPON A TIME IN AMERICA

AP Headline, July 8: 3 Marines killed in western Iraq province.

Once upon a time in America
A father gave a gift to his young boy.
The child had hoped for a gun,
Instead it was a globe.
“What is it, Daddy?”
The boy asked?
“It is the world, my son.”

The boy sat on the floor
Spinning it `round and `round
Watching as the oceans and land
blurred into one.
Soon the boy grew tired
Of spinning his new gift
And asked,
“Where is America, Daddy?”
“There is America.” he did say.
“What about Vietnam, Daddy?”
“There will be plenty of time for learning
Now go outside and play.”

Time began to pass by quickly
And with each passing year
The boy would ask his father,
“Where is Vietnam, Daddy?”
And each time the father would say,
“There will be plenty of time for learning.
Now go outside and play.”

Then time lunged forth so fast
That the boy was a soldier
Heading for a war in Iraq.
He stood now
Before his own young son,
“This is what my Daddy gave me
When I had just turned five.”
“What is it?”
“It is the world, my son.”
“Where is America, Daddy?”
“There’s America.” he said
Putting his finger through the sky.
“What about Iraq, Daddy?”
“There’ll be plenty of time for learning, son.
Now give Daddy a kiss goodbye.”

Copyright © 2006 mrp / thepoetryman